Daughter of Anarchy
by Tarafina
Summary: Chloe Sullivan-Winston, bastard child of Piney, grew up under the feet of SAMCRO's biggest and baddest. She walked the line of good and bad, alongside her half-brother Opie and his best friend Jax. Calling some of the meanest bikers 'uncle,' she grew up avoiding her mentally ill mother while she learned how to shoot guns, fix bikes, and shark pool.
1. Chapter One

**Title**: Daughter of Anarchy  
**Category**: Smallville/Sons of Anarchy  
**Genre**: Drama/Romance  
**Ship**: Jax Teller/Chloe Sullivan  
**Chapter Rating**: PG-13  
**Overall Rating**: Explicit/NC-17  
**Word Count**: 7,526  
**Warning(s)**: Strong Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault  
**Summary**: Chloe Sullivan-Winston, bastard child of Piney, grew up under the feet of SAMCRO's biggest and baddest. She walked the line of good and bad, alongside her half-brother Opie and his best friend Jax. Calling some of the meanest bikers 'uncle,' she grew up avoiding her mentally ill mother while she learned how to shoot guns, fix bikes, and shark pool. The first eighteen years of her life, Chloe called Charming, California her home, the club house her safe haven, and SAMCRO her family.

**_Daughter of Anarchy_**  
-Novel-

**Part One**.

_July 29, 1979_

Moira Carter was exhausted. After sixteen hours of intense labor, she could hardly keep her eyes open. It was worth it though, even if the tiny bundle of joy was not made from the best of circumstances. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if she would have moved to Charming had she known that she would end up here just one year later. Her newborn baby was hardly an hour old and she was already wondering if she was worth it.

Moira was young, just twenty-three, and she honestly hadn't expected to be having a baby, let alone with a married man fifteen years her senior. But it had happened. Thanks to a night of drinking and stress relief; she'd gotten herself tangled up with the wrong man at the wrong time. And now what did she have to show for it? A poor excuse for a job in a small, judgmental town, with a baby who would need a lot more than she could provide. Not for the first time since she found out she was pregnant, she seriously considered putting her daughter up for adoption. Not because she didn't love her or want her, but because she just didn't think she could give her what she needed.

But then, like a prayer answered by God, or, probably more likely, the _devil_, she heard the familiar clomp of boots coming down the hallway toward her hospital room.

Even knowing how strained the situation was, it didn't stop Moira from rolling her eyes, her lip curled in a sneer, as she demanded, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Piermont Winston, better known as Piney, didn't even offer a flinch. "Got a call at the club, said you went into labor…" He cast his eyes around until they fell on the hospital-issue bassinet. His every footstep echoed as he made his way toward it. A tiny baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, her skin a bright, mottled red, stared up at him, her lips puckered. She didn't show any signs of her parents yet, no distinct features that set her apart as his or Moira's daughter, but she was beautiful.

"What'd you name her?"

It took a minute for Moira to put her anger aside and answer him; it was no secret that she hated every second spent in his presence. But, looking on at the bassinet, where Piney's hand had disappeared inside to trace the soft cheek of their daughter, she relaxed slightly. Maybe it was the obvious affection he showed, something she could definitely relate to, that encouraged her to answer him plainly rather than offer up a sharp-tongued barb. "Chloe."

Piney noticed the little information card then, stuck to the side of the bassinet, and read it through. He nodded agreeably at her middle name, "Anne," and smiled at her birth weight of 8 pounds, 7 ounces. For as tiny as she looked, she was healthy. A year and a half earlier, he was standing in a room just like this, only it was his wife Mary in the bed, not Moira, a woman he'd had an affair with nine months ago, drunk on too much whiskey and dumber than usual. He knocked her up in the process and neither Mary nor Moira saw fit to forgive him for it.

Mary was at home now, taking care of their son Harry; no doubt she knew where Piney was and he'd be hearing about it later. While he and Moira were a one-night mistake, she was the mother of his daughter, and Piney didn't turn his back on his kids, born out of his marriage or not. So Chloe would always have her dad in her life, no matter who wanted different. He smiled down at his little girl and promised her the world.

* * *

_August 19, 1979_

The club was loud with shouting, laughter, and music; it only made Piney smile wider as he approached. He passed by the long line of shiny Harley's and climbed the dusty steps to the porch outside the clubhouse, pausing just outside the thick, wood door, the noise inside reverberating against it. Much as it sounded like chaos was reining supreme inside, he felt the nostalgic sense of home that always hit him when he returned to the club.

Turning his head down, he peered at the small bundle he held. His daughter lay in the crook of his arm, a black tuque on her head with a white reaper stitched across it. Her tiny fingers squeezed at air, like she was trying to find something and hold on with all her might. He offered her a finger and she latched onto it, her tiny fingers curling just above one of his silver rings.

This was the first time since Chloe was born that Moira let him take her out; she'd been keeping the baby at home with her since she left the hospital and she wasn't too keen on him having any rights at all, let alone an hour or two to show his daughter off. But here he was, and it was probably only because Moira was dead tired. She didn't have any family in Charming, having only moved over a year earlier. Piney counted his blessings and took what he could get, convincing Moira to take a nap while he watched the squirt.

"You ready to meet the boys?" he asked, looking down at his curious, wiggly daughter.

She opened her mouth in a wide 'O' and then closed it abruptly; he took that as a resounding yes.

Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he backed his way inside. The music so loud he couldn't hear himself think. Some of the boys were playing pool, a few were entertaining some eager women, but the majority were just hanging out, drinking beer, trading conversation. Piney crossed the floor until he was in clear view of everyone and gave a long, sharp whistle to draw their attention. Seeing what was happening, Tig reached over to turn off the music.

Quieting down, the boys turned to him expectantly.

"I wanna introduce you assholes to the next Winston…" He pointed down at the baby in his arm with his thumb. "This here's Chloe."

Loud cheering went up and the men all crowded around to see her.

Rather than get disturbed by the loud noises, the cloying smells, and the unfamiliar faces, Chloe merely looked around at them all curiously.

One of his oldest and closest friends, a fellow founder and the president of SAMCRO, John Teller came up next to him then, clapping Piney on the back as he smiled down at the little girl. Having just had a son of his own, Jackson, a little over a year back, he understood the pride that came with it. "She's a cute one, Pine. You didn't do half-bad."

"Yeah, she'll be a heartbreaker," he mused.

As he passed her around to his closest friends, his brothers in arms, he knew he was right. As soon as Chloe was brought into the club house, the men of SAMCRO fell in love with her. Maybe it was the fact that she was the only innocent one of out of the lot, or that she was still full of so much potential; whatever the reason, she was a daughter of SAMCRO and she always would be.

* * *

_December 2, 1979_

"There's my princess," Tig greeted, kneeling down in front of the baby carrier, where Chloe laid quietly, Lenny close by to keep an eye on her while Piney talked shop with John.

"Look what Uncle Tig brought you, huh?" He held up a tiny denim vest for her. "We'll get you a patch, nice reaper on the back, right? You'll fit right in."

Chloe sucked on her fingers while her other hand reached out for him, squeezing at random.

Chuckling, he brought the vest closer for her, letting her grab it, touching the fabric curiously.

"Where the hell'd you get one that small?" Lenny wondered, taking a seat on a chair beside them.

"I got connections." Tig shrugged. "Know some people, got a sweat shop a few counties over… They'll make anything."

Lenny snorted. "Just what the kid needs… a vest on her back by slaves you probably paid with the change in your pocket."

Clicking his tongue, he dismissed Lenny and turned the vest around so he could see the back. "What d'you think? We could have _D_AMCRO written on the back, right? She'll be the first Daughter of Anarchy." He grinned.

Chloe kicked her feet and let out a happy shriek.

"See? She likes it!"

Lenny rolled his eyes. "She's four months old. She laughs at everything. See? Watch!" Digging out his keys, he dangled them in front of the baby, who followed them with her eyes, smacking her lips and drooling.

Tig frowned at him and stood up. "Not the same. She likes the cut." He nodded, his brow furrowed. As he wandered off with it, Lenny looked back at Chloe, crossing his thickly muscled arms over his chest.

"Congratulations kid, you'll be in the MC before any of our prospects."

She let out a loud, happy laugh, and he grinned back at her.

* * *

_May 12, 1980_

"What the hell is this?" Piney demanded, waving the thick papers he'd been served not a half hour ago in Moira's face.

She leaned back against the park bench and scowled at him. "A petition to change Chloe's name, what does it look like?"

Grinding his teeth, he shouted back, "Bullshit you're changing her name!" He stabbed a finger toward the 9 month old baby, who was currently in and out of sleep, her eyes drowsily trying to close, only to fly open a second later as she cast her green eyes around curiously. "That girl's a Winston. I don't care if you found yourself a husband. That guy ain't my daughter's daddy!"

"Well, he's going to be," she yelled back. "Chloe needs a good man in her life, a real father figure, not some biker _idiot_ I can't guarantee will be around to see her grow up." Standing from the bench, she gripped the stroller handlebar and pushed the papers at Piney. "I'll go through the courts if I have to, but I don't think you want that kind of attention." Her hard stare cut into him. "Chloe will be a Sullivan, just like me and just like Gabe. I don't care what _you _want." She started pushing the stroller away, calling over her shoulder, "Sign the papers, Piney!"

Growling under his breath, he balled them up and threw them as far as he could, cursing under his breath before he stomped off toward where he'd left his bike parked.

He would sign, eventually, because Moira was right, he couldn't have anybody looking into his life or history and especially not at SAMCRO, which is exactly what she would tell them to do. It didn't matter what Chloe's last name was, everybody knew she was his. She'd always be a Winston at heart.

* * *

_January 9, 1983_

"I don't want her here," Mary argued, slamming the cupboards as she moved around her kitchen.

"She's three years old, Mar; she doesn't even know why you hate her. She wants to be here for Harry's birthday and she should be," Piney argued.

"If she's young enough not to know why I don't want her here, she's young enough to forget I told her not to come," she spat back angrily.

"Harry wants her here," he reminded. "He loves his little sister, you know that."

Mary stopped, bracing her hands on the counter as a pot of spaghetti sauce steamed away at her right. Finally, turning to glare at him, she yelled, "I don't want your bastard kid at our son's birthday party. I don't care how much he loves her! It's disrespectful Piney, and I won't have it in my home!"

He ground his teeth and took a few steps toward her, scowling when she cringed, pushing herself back against the counter, unsure of his anger. Waving a finger in her face, he said, "Chloe's coming to the party tomorrow. Harry wants her there, I want her there, so she's coming… And don't call her a bastard again, Mary." His eyes flashed angrily. "You wanna hate someone, you hate me, but you don't take it out on her." As he turned to leave, he muttered, "She three goddamn years old for Christ's sake."

Chloe was allowed to come to the birthday party and, even Mary had to admit, it was cute to see her five year old son walk around holding Chloe's hand the entire party, proudly introducing her to everyone he saw.

* * *

_August 15, 1983_

The earliest memory Chloe had was from when she was four years old. The other things, the years before that, were fragments and feelings, nostalgia from smells but no idea why. But when she was four, a memory formed that she never forgot.

She was eating a Popsicle, the warm California sun beating down on her. She'd traded in the pink dress her mother had put out for her to wear for her favorite neon yellow shorts and a striped, green t-shirt with a cartoon duck on the front. The sound of power tools was loud, but it didn't frighten her any. She was used to the sights, smells, and sounds of Teller-Morrow Auto. Currently, her only point of focus was the shiny motorcycle in front of her. Sitting on an overturned plastic milk crate, she observed the way the sun hit the turquoise gas tank.

It was John Teller's bike she was admiring, leaning heavy against the side stand, much of the silver polished nice and bright. She liked the color Uncle JT's was; her dad's was just plain black and silver.

"Dad said, when I'm older, he'll let me drive it," came a familiar voice.

Chloe turned, blinking against the sharp sun and found Jackson, JT's son, not far away. He walked over, his own orange Popsicle half eaten, his fingers sticky with the melted juice, and took a seat on the ground next to her. He rested an elbow on the extra space of milk crate and eyed his father's bike appreciatively.

"One day, I'm gonna be just like my dad," he told her reverently. "I'm gonna be SAMCRO and I'm gonna have the best bike and I'll get all the patches for my cut, too."

Chloe rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee, and looked down at him thoughtfully.

Jackson was grinning lopsidedly, an orange ring stain around his lips, and his blond hair tangled around his shoulders. He was what her mom always called a wild child, but Chloe thought he just liked to have fun.

"Are you gonna run the club like JT too?" she wondered.

He shrugged. "I dunno… Doesn't matter." He looked up at her, one of his eyes closed against the sun. "We're all brothers, right?"

She tipped her head thoughtfully. "Is Harry gonna be SAMCRO?"

He nodded happily. "We're gonna be friends forever. We'll be watch each other's backs, just like our dads!"

Chloe pursed her lips in a frown. "Well if Harry's SAMCRO, then I wanna be too."

Jax laughed, shaking his head. "You can't. It's for boys."

"That's stupid," she declared, pouting irritably. She licked her Popsicle so it'd stop dribbling and glared at the bike in front of her. "I'm gonna ride a bike and get a cut too; I don't care if I'm a girl… Harry's _my _brother and you can't have him."

"SAMCRO means we're brothers. That's the rules!"

Chloe harrumphed. "That's not fair! He was mine first and I don't _wanna_ share!"

Sighing, he sat back, and for a few minutes, they passed the time just eating their Popsicles. She was startled when he sat up suddenly, struck with an idea.

"I got it!"

She frowned at him. "Got what?"

He turned to look at her, grinning proudly. "What if when we're old, you and me get hitched! You'll be my old lady and then you'll be Harry's sister again!"

She gave it a second's thought before declaring, "That's dumb!"

Jax's smile faded. "How come?"

"I don't wanna marry you. I just want Harry. He's _my _brother and I won't let you or SAMCRO or anybody have him."

"Well, that's mean, and you're being selfish."

Hopping up from her milk cart, Chloe glared at Jax, her hands fisted angrily. And then, with all the spite of a four year old, she threw her Popsicle at Jax and stomped off, shouting over her shoulder. "I'll never be your old lady, Jackson Teller!"

Wearing her pink Popsicle on his shirt, he frowned after her. "I don't wanna mean wife anyway!"

Stomping her foot, she ran off, grumbling under her breath as she went, so angry that she felt like crying. She honestly thought that Jax was going to steal her brother and then Harry wouldn't be hers anymore. He wouldn't play with her or talk to her or anything. Frustrated, she kicked a beer bottle that got into her way and went inside the club house. Ignoring everybody else she went straight to her dad, who was sitting down sharing a beer with JT.

Face flushed from her anger, she stared up at the two men until they noticed her.

"Your son is mean and you can't have Harry!" she declared.

JT and Piney stared at her, confused.

"What's happening?"

"What's this got to do with Jackson?"

"Jax is a big mean jerk. And Harry can't be SAMCRO, 'cause you can't have him, 'cause he's _mine!" _

The two men exchanged a look and then returned to looking at the little girl in front of them. With a sigh, Piney brought her up into his lap. "All right, kid, explain what happened…"

Taking a deep breath, she prepared to do just that. Ten minutes later, they were smiling at her indulgently.

"It's okay, Chloe," JT reassured. "Harry will _always _be your brother."

Worriedly, she wondered, "_Really?_"

He nodded, grinning gently at her. "If he wants to be SAMCRO later, that's fine, he'll be a brother of this club, but that doesn't mean he won't still be yours."

"Nobody's trying to take him away from you," Piney promised.

She looked away thoughtfully before brightening as she said, "So I don't have to marry Jackson?"

They laughed lightly at her.

"No, kid. You won't be anybody's old lady." Piney frowned protectively. "_Ever_."

Shrugging, she said, "Okay," before she left his lap and happily skipped over to the pool table to see what Tig and Keith were up to. She put the whole thing out of her head, dismissing it now that her fears were put to rest. She would always be Harry's sister, no matter what, and that's all she cared about.

Although, she did appreciate it when Jax found her an hour later and gave her a new Popsicle to replace the one she threw at him.

* * *

_February 12, 1984_

One of Chloe's favorite places to be was in her dad's side car. She had her own helmet and everything.

Piney picked her up that Sunday morning at the same time he always did, 9 am sharp. Chloe ran out the front door smiling, ignoring the way her mom shouted after her to wear her seatbelt and keep her arms in the car and, "Damn it, Piney, get a real car!" She happily hopped into her seat and let her dad do her seatbelt up for her while she put on her goggles and reached for the strap on her black helmet, a white reaper painted on the front. Bouncing in her seat, she eagerly awaited the ride.

The drive from her house to Pat's diner wasn't long, so Piney always took a different route, one that circled city limits. He grinned at her every time he looked over to see her enjoying herself. The whiz of the air passing by mixing with the growl of the Harley made her heart skitter with appreciation.

When they finally pulled into the diner, she was breathless. He helped her out of the side car and followed her slowly, in no hurry to get inside. Chloe was alive with energy though, skipping circles around him, running a few feet ahead and then backing up to fall against his legs, giggling to herself before she repeated the whole process. Piney, in his leather chaps and denim cut, looked on fondly at his playful daughter.

He caught her around the waist and hauled her up onto his shoulder, smiling as she shrieked, and walked them inside, nodding hello to the cashier before he walked down the aisle toward a booth looking out on the parking lot. He dropped Chloe down on one side, taking his own seat across from her as she righted herself, brushing her blonde hair out of her face and reaching for the menus, handing him one while she consulted hers.

The waitress stopped at their table with a glass of orange juice for Chloe and a mug of steaming coffee for Piney; their drink order never changed.

Kneeling on her seat, Chloe sucked her orange juice through a straw and looked at each of the pictures on the menu before finally deciding which she wanted and pointing at it.

A small stack of silver dollar chocolate chip pancakes stared back and Piney nodded agreeably, while he got a bigger breakfast for himself with ham, sausage and bacon.

Taking her seat properly after the waitress left, Chloe clasped her heads on the table and rested her chin on them, watching her dad thoughtfully as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, letting it dangle from his lips. He was a handsome man; tall with broad shoulders, intense blue eyes, and long, sandy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Three patches were stitched onto his cut; the two on the left read Redwood and Original, while the one on the right read First 9. Harry took after him quite a bit, while Chloe took more after her mom.

"How's home been?" her dad wondered, taking a drag off his cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders high. "Mom wants to put me in a dance class. She said I should take ballet…" Her eyes turned away. "Gabe says it costs too much."

Piney nodded, staring at her a long moment. "What about you?"

She gave it some thought, wondering if she wanted to be in ballet or not. "Ballerinas are pretty."

He hummed before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "_You're _pretty," he told her simply. "You don't need to be a ballerina for that… But I'll pay for you to go if you want to." He winked at her. "Just say the word."

Grinning at him, she shrugged, moving over to sip her orange juice again. Smacking her lips when she was done, she told him, "I think you're pretty too."

He laughed deeply from his belly and Chloe sat back, smiling proudly.

When their breakfast arrived, they traded conversation as they ate. Chloe told stories about Harry and Jackson while Piney nodded, humming to encourage her to keep talking. His daughter was a chatterbox; he was sure she got that from her mother and not him. And when the dishes were taken away, they still sat, with him nursing another cup of coffee while she went on and on about how Harry was _always _with Jackson, and what was so great about him anyway, and Harry should be in ballet with her, because he had hair just as long as hers and he was pretty too. But Jackson couldn't come, she decided.

The jealousy thing? That she got from her dad.

* * *

_April 14, 1984_

Chloe dragged her bag behind her, letting it bump against the back of her legs as she went, her head down and her lips pursed in a frown. Her pink leotard and tutu made her feel silly suddenly; it was too attention getting when all she wanted to do was fade into the background. The other girls walked behind her, all four, five, and six year olds. Some bigger, some smaller, some the same size. They all had their hair tied up in a ponytail or braided down their backs. Chloe felt silly about her pigtails suddenly and tugged on the end of one.

She stopped in the front foyer and searched for one of her parents; she just wanted to go home. It was usually her dad who picked her up from ballet, but since he occasionally got busy with the club, her mom or Gabe sometimes came to get her. She searched and searched but didn't set eyes on any one of them. Her mom's familiar black hair and bright green eyes were absent, her dad's towering frame donning the SAMCRO cut wasn't there to comfort her. Finally, she leaned back against a wall, sighing.

Some of the other girls passed her by, looking over at her and giggling behind their hands before they all started whispering to each other.

Chloe felt her face go bright red and kicked at her bag, turning her eyes away. As the parents all talked, so did their daughters. She could feel their eyes on her, their pointing and staring and the hurtful words she imagined they were saying. It seemed to take forever, but finally, each of the other girls was taken home by their respective parent until only Chloe remained.

It was getting dark out and she nervously looked over at her ballet teacher, a strict woman who kept sighing every few minutes, obviously tired and desperate to go home.

Just then, the door flew open, a bell jingling above it, and Chloe looked over, slumping with relief at seeing a familiar face.

Gemma Teller walked in, all swaying hips and confidence, which was only slightly hindered by the four month old baby she carried. She nodded at Chloe and offered a wry grin. "Hey, sweetheart, sorry I'm late. Your dad asked me to pick you up, said he couldn't make it. Short notice club stuff, you know?"

Shrugging, Chloe grabbed up her bag and hurried toward the door. She didn't wave at her teacher, who just looked happy to lock up and go, instead she kept her head down and followed Gemma out to her car. She was relieved to see Jackson wasn't with her, and waited quietly as Gemma strapped her son Tommy in to the seat next to Chloe before climbing back into the driver's seat. She glanced at her in the rearview mirror before turning the ignition and pulling her car out of the parking lot, leaving the small ballet studio behind.

Chloe felt a surge of relief at being away from it and slumped in her seat. She stared out the window, watching buildings and houses pass by, wishing she could see her dad before she had to go home. Or at least Harry, he always made her feel better.

It was a few minutes of silent company before Gemma wondered, "What's wrong, honey? You're usually talking my ear off…"

Instead of replying, she merely shook her head.

"Come on, you know you can tell me." Gemma drew an X on her chest. "Cross my heart, I'll keep your secrets." She winked at her.

Chloe bit her lip but finally admitted, "I don't wanna do ballet anymore."

"No?" Her brows rose slightly. "How come?"

She looked away, shrugging. Playing with the edges of her tutu, she rubbed the fabric between her fingers. "The other girls don't like me…"

Gemma was quiet for a moment. "Yeah? Why do you think that?"

Chloe blinked as tears bit at her eyes, burning. "They make fun of me… They laugh at me and whisper and they won't let me sit with them." She shrugged. "Nobody wanted to be my partner." Reaching up, she rubbed a fist against her eye to swipe away her tears. "They said I was weird, and daddy was a bad person, and I shouldn't be there."

"Those little bitches," Gemma muttered. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and abruptly pulled her car over to the curb. Turning in her seat, she stared at Chloe seriously. "Listen up and listen close… You're gonna meet a lot of people in your life and some of them are going to be grade-A jerks! They're not all going to like you and you're not going to like all of them. Case in point…" She nodded at her. "You like any of those girls who were mean to you?"

She frowned, taking a second before she shook her head. "They were mean." Slumping in her seat, she sighed. "I wish Harry wanted to be a ballerina."

Gemma's lips twitched. "Yeah, well, I don't think that wish is coming true anytime soon…"

Chloe scowled.

"Listen, kid, if there's one thing I know it's that you can't rely on anybody else, especially not a man… You want something in this life, you gotta _take_ it. And don't wait around for somebody else to tell you to or to drive the get-away car." She shook her head. "Harry's not going to be there forever. You've gotta stand on your own two feet sometime, so why not now?" Gemma raised an eyebrow. "You like ballet?"

She considered the question. Truth be told, yes, she loved dancing and her tutu and it was nice to have something that was all her own.

"Okay then." She nodded. "Be a ballerina then. Don't let those little girls tell you what you can and can't be. They don't get to decide. If you want to be a ballerina, you be the best damn one in the class. You show them that you're better than them and their petty bullshit. You don't need them! You don't need anyone but yourself!" She stared at her encouragingly. "Right?"

Chloe smiled slowly. "Right."

"So where are you going to be next Sunday?"

"Ballet class."

"And who's going to be the best ballerina Charming ever saw?"

"_Me!_"

"That's right." Grinning smugly, Gemma turned back around to pull the car back onto the road. "Just dance your little ass off, Chloe. Everybody else, they don't matter. You do what you want, you don't let anyone tell you different, and you're gonna do just fine in this world."

Sitting back in her seat, feeling a lot better about the situation, Chloe smiled to herself.

She liked the way Gemma thought.

* * *

_September 4, 1984_

Chloe shifted her feet back and forth, tugging on the straps of her brand new backpack. "I don't want to," she murmured, looking worriedly at the kindergarten class filled with unfamiliar faces. "I wanna go back to the club…"

"You can't come back to the club right now," Piney said, kneeling down next to her. "You remember when Harry started school? How much you wanted to go too?"

She nodded, chewing her lip. "But Harry's not in my class…"

"No, but he's around the school. If you need him for anything, you can find him."

Her eyes fell and she glared at the runners her mom picked out for her. "How about I go to school tomorrow and I go to the club today…?" She looked up at him hopefully. "I won't tell momma, I promise."

He half-smiled, shaking his head. "You're almost too good at that puppy dog look, kid." With a sigh, he kissed the top of her head and stood, giving her a little nudge between her shoulders. "You're gonna do fine. Make some friends, learn the alphabet."

"I already know the alphabet," she huffed, pouting.

"Well, you still need friends."

"_Nu-uh!_ I don't need anybody!" Sticking her chin out, she added, "And besides, I've got Harry… And Jackson's all right." She rolled her eyes. It was no secret that Chloe was jealous of Jackson, if only because he was Harry's best friend. The only good thing was that this year Jax had a little brother now too, who he was spending a lot more time at home with, watching over him. But Tommy couldn't come to school, so that meant Jax would probably take up all of Harry's time, leaving none for her.

Amused, Piney simply grinned at her. "Get in there, Chloe. Show 'em how smart you are."

Sighing, she took a few steps forward. "You'll come get me after?"

He nodded. "I promised you ice cream, didn't I?"

She beamed then. "With sprinkles?"

"With whatever you want on top."

With an extra skip in her step, she hopped forward into the classroom; she wasn't looking forward to her first day of school, just what came after, but it was a start.

* * *

_August 24, 1985_

Chloe pushed against the heavy door of the club house with all her might, her shoulder pressed against the scratchy wood. She grunted at the exertion it took, before finally it swung open under her, easy as could be. She lit up happily, only to hear a chuckle behind her. Looking up, she saw a hand braced high above on the door, silver rings adorning his fingers. Tipping her head back further, she found her Uncle Tig grinning at her. A former marine, he was a feral looking man in his late-twenties, with springy black hair, a black goatee, and round blue eyes that always seemed to pop intensely.

"You s'pose to be here, half-pint?"

She grinned toothily.

Shaking his head, he nodded his chin for her to go ahead.

Racing forward, she darted behind the bar and grabbed out two cold bottles of beer from the fridge before she raced back out. She found her dad sitting on a couch, nodding his head to something Uncle Lenny was saying while Otto, who she always thought looked comically short compared to the others, especially Lenny, who was built like a tank, kept leaning forward, trying and failing to interrupt. Chloe hopped onto her dad's knee without warning and, before he could tell her to be careful, held a beer out for him.

With a half-grin, he took it, unscrewing the top and guzzling a good portion. He eyed the other bottle she held in the crook of her arm and wondered, "You startin' early, kid?"

She shook her head and then turned, holding the bottle out with both hands until Tig swaggered on by, heels of his heavy boots clicking, and took it, winking at her playfully.

"There's a good princess," he said, before wandering off to stand with Clay Morrow, who was getting his pool cue ready for a game.

"You always like the strange ones," her dad said, bumping her head with his nose affectionately.

Chloe shrugged. "Tig's funny."

"He's crazy," Otto told her, brows ticked up. He didn't say it like it was an insult but an observation.

Rolling her eyes, she frowned over at him. "I heard daddy call you 'L'il Killer'…" she reminded.

With a smirk, he told her, "We're _all _a little crazy."

She snorted and then wiggled her way off of Piney's knee. "Where's Jacky and Opie?" she asked, although she huffed a bit at the name. Her brother had recently decided that he didn't like the name Harry and wanted to be called Opie instead. For some reason, everybody thought it was a great idea. To Chloe's thinking, her brother, for all his gangly appearance of too long legs and arms, was actually half hair. She didn't think Mary had ever cut it, and it hung clear past his shoulders. "Harry" fit him just fine.

"They're shooting BB guns out back," her dad said, and started to warn her away from it, but she'd already turned on her heel to chase after them. "Don't get yourself shot out there, Chloe. Your mom'll never let me see you again."

"She already doesn't!" Chloe yelled back, never faltering in her steps.

The club laughed lightheartedly, with Otto jabbing a shoulder at Piney.

Chloe came to a quiet stop just behind Opie and Jackson, who weren't aiming their BB guns at the paper targets in the distance, but instead the empty bottles they'd nicked from inside.

"Did dad say you could do that?" she wondered.

Opie jumped, whirling around in surprise. "What the heck, Chloe? I could've shot you!"

"Not with your aim," Jackson snorted, grinning as he raised his gun and took a shot, hitting a brown bottle and knocking it off the oil drum it sat upon. He started pumping his gun again and turned to face them, one of his eyes closed against the sun. "What're you doin' out here, Chlo? Thought your mom said you couldn't visit the club house anymore…"

She shrugged. "I'm not visiting the club house, I'm visiting Ope," she answered defiantly.

Her brother shook his head, probably because he was tired of having Moira yell at him to stay away from her daughter, but Jackson laughed under his breath. "You're a real rebel… Bet you make Piney proud."

She looked over at her brother, who was more than a head taller than her. "Can I try?" she hoped, looking at the BB gun he held.

He took a step back and frowned. "No way. You'll probably take out an eye and your mom'll kill me. And then _my _mom will kill me 'cause I was around Moira long enough for her _to _kill me."

"Don't be such a baby," Chloe muttered. "Dad never complains this much and mom yells at him _all the time_."

Opie shushed her and then looked around worriedly. "Don't say that so loud… If my mom finds out dad's seen Moira at all, she'll kill him in his sleep…"

"Mary never comes to the club house," she argued before moving over to them. "Come on, Opie, _please! _Just one shot!"

"Couldn't hurt," Jackson piped up.

Sighing, Opie glared at him and then turned around, holding his BB gun out for her.

Cheering, she hopped over excitedly and took it from him.

"Okay, now you gotta aim like this…" Adjusting it in her arms, Opie got her ready to take a shot, nervously standing next to her and looking around to make sure nobody saw. "Dad's gonna shoot _me_ if he sees you."

She snorted. "Uncle Tig let me hold his gun last week."

"What? He doesn't even let me _look _at it!"

Laughing under her breath, she shrugged. "I'm cuter than you."

"Whatever," he muttered grumpily. "Just take your shot."

Chloe aimed at the bottle and took a deep breath in. She held it as she squeezed the trigger and then let it out on a whoop as she hit the bottle enough that it teetered. It didn't fall, but it was close enough.

Opie clapped for her, while Jackson grinned. "She did better than you on her first try, Ope."

"All right, all right, give it here," her brother said, reaching for the BB gun.

She let him take it, in part because she knew he'd let her try again. Her brother might try at being tough, but in the end he was a softy and he almost always gave in when it was Chloe asking. He was protective, sure, but he could also be a pushover. It was something she'd learned early on, when he'd give up playing with Jackson and instead sat and entertained her when she was too little to join him on the jungle gym. Opie, despite only being a year and a half older than her, acted like he was much older and had to keep her safe from everything. She didn't mind it much; in the end, he was her favorite person.

Lenny popped his head out back, tossing one finished cigarette from his lips and replacing it with another. For a man who paid so much attention to his health, she always thought it rather odd how much he smoked. Three packs a day, he went through them one after the other, but still looked to be in better health than anybody else in the club. A weight-lifter, Lenny was no slouch; in fact, he'd tried more than once to get Opie and Jax to try working out or lifting weights.

"Pack it up, you lot, time to come in," he called to them before heading back inside, his hulking frame disappearing from sight.

The sun was setting and Chloe knew she'd probably have to head home soon if she didn't want her mom storming the club house and kicking up a fuss like she had far too many times in the past. If she was lucky, she might send her step-dad instead, but she only did that if she was having a bad day or her episodes were worse.

Chloe chased after Opie and Jackson as they moved through the club, with Jax veering to the right, toward his mom, who was sitting on the edge of the pool table, her hand gripping JT's cut, pulling him in for a kiss, while Opie maneuvered around to find his dad, who'd moved to a stool by the bar and was talking with Wally.

Piney looked down at his son and then behind him to Chloe. "Get your sister home before Moira comes callin', and then get home yourself," he ordered.

Opie nodded and turned to leave, but Chloe hopped over, feet balanced on the middle rung of the stool and held her cheek up. With a laugh, Piney kissed it.

"Get outta here, kid. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll get breakfast at Pat's." He ruffled her hair affectionately before turning back to Wally.

Turning to leave, she grinned at Tig, behind the bar, as he held a hand out for her to high-five when she passed. She did so as hard as she could before turning on her heel and racing after Opie, who managed to get the door open just fine.

"Hurry up, I wanna go home. Mom's makin' chicken fingers for dinner!" he said over his shoulder.

Chloe ran right up behind him until she was close enough to leap, and landed on his back with a laugh. He grunted at the added weight, but caught her under her knees and gave her the piggyback ride she wanted. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she rested her chin on her elbow and observed the people and cars passing by her.

"What're you having for dinner?" Opie wondered.

She frowned thoughtfully. "I dunno. I think Gabe's bringing home something. Mom's been kinda weird, so she doesn't cook much."

He hummed and, after a minute, asked, "She still spacing out?"

"Yeah… Used to be for just a couple minutes, but it seems like longer now… Gabe says I should just go outside and play when she does, but… I dunno." Her mom's episodes were a topic she didn't always like to talk about. Piney didn't ask after them often, but Opie worried about them. Opie always worried.

"You should come find me when she does. We'll go to the park or something."

Chloe grinned. "Sure."

"I'm serious. What if she does something and she doesn't remember? Like, what if she hurts you?"

Her eyes fell for a moment before she shook her head. "No, she doesn't do anything. She just sits there and stares. And then, after a while, she just… _wakes up_."

"I still don't like it."

"Well, tough cookies."

Chloe wiggled until he let her down and walked beside him instead. They weren't far from her place anyway, turning down the alley that would lead to her backyard.

After walking in silence for a while, he reached over and shoved her shoulder. Smiling, she shoved him back, and so they went, nudging and pushing each other the rest of the way, laughing as the other stumbled. It took longer than it should have to get to her yard, but it was fun. As they stopped outside her gate, she turned to say goodbye.

"Hey, bring me something back from Pat's. Dad always forgets."

"Pancakes with extra bacon," she said knowingly.

He nodded happily before turning to continue down the alley. His house was a few blocks over, but he knew a shortcut.

Turning on her heel, she locked the gate and raced across the backyard, hop-scotching as she went, before jumping up the stairs and making her way inside, happy that the screen door was open since it always squeaked when she pulled on it.

Her mom was in the living room, she could just make out the back of her head. As she got closer, she realized that her mom was staring blankly at the floor, her eyes a little wide. It would be a few minutes before she was out of it, so Chloe made her way to her bedroom, deciding that at least her mom's episode meant she wouldn't get in trouble for being at the club. Maybe there was an upside to the whole thing…

[**Next**: Part Two.]

* * *

**Author's Note**: _Thank you to everyone who took a chance reading this. Obviously it's not an often (ever?) seen crossover, but I've been working on this for some time and, after some lovely feedback on Tumblr, decided to post the first part to see how it was received. As you can see it's a Chloe-centric fic, but Jax starts to play more of a part as time goes on and Opie is definitely seen a lot more. _

_I will add that there are some themes throughout this story that I don't personally agree with but that occur in Sons of Anarchy that fit the characters or situation. So please try to remember that while reading. Anything I write is in the point of view of that character, not of my personal opinion. _

_Especially because this crossover has never been done, and I'm not sure how many will be reading, please try to leave a review so I know if this is something I should keep posting. I'm already 60,000+ words into it, so there's plenty to read. Just let me know what you think!_

_Thank you all for reading!_

- **Lee | Fina**


	2. Chapter Two

**Title**: Daughter of Anarchy  
**Category**: Smallville/Sons of Anarchy  
**Genre**: Drama/Romance  
**Ship**: Jax Teller/Chloe Sullivan  
**Chapter Rating**: PG-13  
**Overall Rating**: Explicit/NC-17  
**Word Count**: 7,801  
**Warning(s)**: Strong Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault  
**Summary**: [Prequel] Chloe Sullivan-Winston, bastard child of Piney, grew up under the feet of SAMCRO's biggest and baddest. She walked the line of good and bad, alongside her half-brother Opie and his best friend Jax. Calling some of the meanest bikers 'uncle,' she grew up avoiding her mentally ill mother while she learned how to shoot guns, fix bikes, and shark pool. The first eighteen years of her life, Chloe called Charming, California her home, the club house her safe haven, and SAMCRO her family.

**_Daughter of Anarchy_**  
-Novel-

**Part Two**.

_September 29, 1985_

Chloe leaned forward in her seat, watching JT as he considered the checkers board in front of him. He always took a while to make a move, considering every angle. Not like the other guys or her brother, who always took the most obvious move, certain they would win. JT was more strategic; he liked to think things through first. His fingers hovered over the board, twitching with consideration.

Chloe watched him, her feet kicking back and forth. She'd been struggling to find a way to bring something up since before the game started and she knew, if given long enough, she'd just end up blurting it out. Chloe focused on her pile of black checkers, making them perfectly straight. JT was down to his last three compared to her four, but she knew that didn't mean anything. He was a good opponent; he never went easy on her. Not like Keith, who always let her win before he ruffled her hair and told her she was too smart for him.

"Uncle JT?" she finally said.

"You're not gonna rush me now, are you?" he wondered, offering a smile.

She grinned, shaking her head.

"Good. Gemma gave up playing games with me. Love the woman, but she's damn impatient."

Chuckling under her breath, Chloe shrugged.

"What do you need then?" he wondered.

She struggled for a moment, not sure how to put it into words, until finally she said, "Opie said Otto died… He said he was found in the river…"

JT's humor faded into a solemn frown and he nodded at her. "Yeah… Otto's not with us anymore…"

"Somebody hurt him real bad and he died," she said. Not a question, but a statement.

Sitting back in his chair, he tapped his fingers against the arm. "Do you know what death is, Chloe? What it _means_ to die?" he wondered.

She stared at him, her brow furrowed. "Mom said it's when an animal or a person has to go away. So the spirit left them and went away to heaven, but their body stays, so we can bury it, and have some place to go when we miss them."

He hummed thoughtfully. "What do _you_ think it is?"

She frowned. "I think… I think sometimes they don't just go away… They get _taken _away… And it's not very nice or fun, it's really sad, and people miss them…" She shifted in her seat. "I miss Otto. I liked him." She half-smiled. "He showed me how to punch… He said I had a good right hook!"

JT's smile came back as he chuckled under his breath. "You know, Otto was a good fighter. He liked a good brawl. If you had to pick a teacher, he was a good choice."

Chloe nodded agreeably.

Sitting forward, JT finally moved his checker.

Four moves later, he beat her, but she didn't mind. She always felt like she learned something when they played games together.

* * *

_March 30, 1986_

Chloe loved Easter. Mostly because she got a bunch of candy, but also because of the Easter egg hunt. Every year, she, Opie, and Jax went to the park where Gemma and some of the other ladies had a big Easter event. There was chocolate, face and egg painting, and, her favorite, balloon animals.

It was time for the Easter egg hunt though and whoever got the most eggs got a prize. So as soon as the whistle blew, every kid under the age of ten raced forward and started searching. Under picnic tables, in the grass, through the sand on the playground. Cheers rang out as more and more kids found eggs, happily filling their basket.

Small chocolate eggs were hidden all around too, but it was only the big ones that mattered. Especially since the big prize was more chocolate than she could eat in a year.

Chloe found more than a dozen little eggs hidden in the grass, along tree roots, by the swing set and on the slide, but she only found one big egg and that definitely wouldn't be enough to win. Both Jax and Opie had at least two each. She was frustrated and kept looking, but her hope was running low.

And then… "Psst…"

Chloe frowned, turning her head, and searched for the noise.

Just behind one of the trees stood Thomas; or Uncle Tom as everybody else called him. He waved her over quickly, his heavily tattooed knuckles looking out of place with his buttoned down shirt tucked into his jeans. Chloe walked over to him curiously since he seemed to be hiding and no other adults were standing so close since it wasn't fair for them to help search.

"I can't talk. I have to find eggs," she told him. "All the good ones are gone."

He grinned at her and knelt down. "Don't worry so much, kid. We look out for our own." And with that, Tom filled her basket with, what had to be, a whole dozen of the big eggs. They were heavy enough that the basket slumped to the ground from her hand. He winked at her stunned face. "Go on and getchur prize," he said, giving her a nudge on the shoulder.

Chloe backed up and looked around before hurrying off toward where Opie stood, his mouth ringed in chocolate, a pile of silver and colored wrappers at his feet. He waved at her as she stopped by them, while Jax nodded in hello.

"I think Jax won," Opie told her, his teeth covered in chocolate.

She looked at their baskets, where two and three eggs sat respectively, and chewed her lip indecisively. She knew it was cheating and it was wrong, or so her teachers taught her in school, but she _really _wanted the prize…

The whistle blew to call the kids back; Opie and Jax immediately started toward it.

Shifting her feet, Chloe stood nervously. "Wait!"

They looked back at her, confused.

Sighing, she moved forward and grabbed their baskets. She divided her full dozen up so that each of them had five and then stood back. Nodding, she started forward. "C'mon."

She was already ahead a few steps before they caught up.

"Where'd you get all those eggs?" Jax wondered, frowning. "Me an' Ope looked everywhere!"

Chloe looked between them and shrugged.

She still felt kind of bad, but she told herself it was okay because she was still sharing.

Gemma handed out the prize of a full chocolate basket, saying she, Jax, and Opie had to share it between them. Since Opie was already pretty full from eating chocolate during the search, it was only really her and Jax that won anything.

"Do you think cheating's wrong?" she asked the older boy, who was opening up a caramel filled egg and pouring it inside his mouth.

Jax shrugged. "Only if someone finds out."

Her lips pursed; she wasn't sure that was how it worked.

In the end, Chloe didn't eat much of the chocolate. Which was fine with Jax, and eventually Opie, who was up for more a couple hours later. But later, when she'd think about it, she decided Jax was wrong. Cheating wasn't okay, whether anybody knew or not. She appreciated Uncle Tom trying to help her out, but she resolved to get the most eggs the next year, all on her own.

* * *

_December 24, 1986_

"Miss Gemma, can I have a cloth? Tommy's got fruit cake all over his hands," Chloe said, leaning against the leg of the pool table.

Gemma briefly looked around, spotting her youngest son, just shy of three years old, sitting on the floor with his newly opened Tonka dump trunk, his sticky fingers touching everything. She smiled fondly and nodded down at Chloe. "Sure, honey, I'll grab you one."

As she walked behind the bar, Chloe climbed up onto one of the stools and perched her chin on her hand, watching Gemma soak a rag in the sink, maneuvering around Uncle Lenny, who was manning the bar for their Christmas Eve party. Although, he'd spent most of the time talking up at least three different women and not really serving drinks, so Chloe thought it was a bit of a moot point.

"Here you go," Gemma said, handing the rag over. "You sure you're okay watching Tommy?"

Chloe shrugged, folding it over in her hand. "Dad took Opie and Jackie for a ride on his quad, so I don't mind."

"Yeah?" She leaned over, her arms resting on the bar. "Your dad do that a lot? Take Ope and Jax instead of you?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. Ope says it's 'cause they're doing boy stuff, but…" She rolled her eyes. "He says that about everything. One time, he said I couldn't hang out with him and Jax, but all they did was drink a bunch of soda and have a burping contest."

Gemma snorted. "Yeah, well, just be lucky the gas was coming out their mouths and not the other end."

Wrinkling her nose, Chloe laughed and hopped down from the stool. "Thanks," she said, waving the cloth before she went.

"Sure."

Taking a seat on the floor, Chloe took each of Tommy's hands and wiped them clear before turning the cloth over and wiping his mouth too. "There. Now you're probably the cleanest guy in here."

Tommy grinned up at her toothily and handed her a car to play with. Unlike his brother, Tommy didn't talk much. Sure, he was only two, but when he wanted to, he could talk for days. More the quiet sort, he preferred silent company to conversation and Chloe could get that. They were surrounded by talkers; the whole club had an opinion on everything. They were always loud, in part, to her thinking, so they could be heard over their music.

"You wanna race?" she asked him, moving up to her knees. "First car to the armchair gets the piece of chocolate cake Uncle Keith left on the counter." She winked at him. "You don't rat, I won't rat."

Giggling, Tommy mimicked her and got ready to race his car.

He won, but they split the cake.

Eventually, he fell asleep in her lap, and she curled up in the corner of one of the couches, falling asleep to the noise of the club as they drank and sang and wished each other a Merry Christmas. She only woke up briefly when JT picked his son up out of her arms and Piney leaned down to pick her up to bring her home. She would have to spend Christmas day with her mom and Gabe, but it was a good night all the same.

* * *

_March 6, 1987_

"You got everything, Chloe?"

Chloe looked down at her packed suitcase, her hands on her hips, and mentally went over everything she grabbed. Finally, certain that she had everything she wanted, she nodded.

Gabe walked further into room, amused by how much she'd fit into her suitcase. He zipped it up and flipped it over, taking it by the handle to carry out. "You know we're only going to be away for a few days, right? We'll be coming back on Sunday."

"It's good to be prepared," she told him, lifting her chin.

"I counted at least six different shirts in here. You only need two."

"What if something happens and I mess up the other ones? Or what if it's cold and I need a sweater. Or if it gets warm and I need a t-shirt. Or what if it rains or I fall into grandma's pool?" Her eyes widened. "I was running outside last year, and her dog tripped me and I almost fell in!"

"I remember… You wrote a whole article on pool safety and presented it to her…" He grinned. "I think she framed it and hung it on her wall."

Chloe blushed. "I wrote it in crayon… I couldn't find a pen."

He nodded down at her. "I think that just adds more tone to it."

Shrugging, she followed him down the hallway to the front door. "Do you think grandma and mom will fight again?"

Gabe sighed. "Honestly…?" He looked back at her, a brow raised. "Probably."

She chewed her lip as she watched him load the suitcases into the trunk.

Once a year they went up to see Gabe's mom. Moira always made them do it on a weekend and not on a holiday because she knew she couldn't stand to spend more than a couple days with her. Chloe liked Gabe's mom well enough. She was always nice to her and put out cookies for her to eat. The only complication was that Chloe wasn't Gabe's, and according to his mother she should be. So her mom and grandma fought frequently about the same thing. Gabe should legally adopt Chloe and Piney should have no more say in her life. Moira, for all that she didn't like Piney, had never agreed to this. Chloe thought it had more to do with not wanting to be told what to do than actually wanting Piney to have rights. That was why Chloe's last name was Sullivan and not Winston, because her mother had tried to make it look like she was Gabe's, to wipe out any connection to Piney. But he had refused to sign over full rights, refused to let Gabe fully adopt her, no matter how much Moira threatened him, and in the end, Piney was her dad. It didn't matter what her mom said, what her grandma wanted, or what her last name was.

Oddly, she thought Gabe understood that more than her mother or grandmother. He was a good guy. Honest, hardworking, and he genuinely cared about her and her mom. He also didn't get upset when she spent time with Piney or her brother, but he did know how much Moira hated it, so he'd often ask her to try not to do it so often or so blatantly.

"You have to understand, Chloe, they're both very headstrong women…" He chucked her under the chin affectionately. "Much like yourself."

"Jax says I'm stubborn as a mule."

"Jax is right," he said, chuckling to himself.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Well I'm not telling him that, he's already got a big head."

"I thought Jackson was your friend…?" He closed the trunk and turned to her, his hands resting comfortably on his hips.

She shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"But not your best friend?"

Her mouth screwed up and she shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Opie's my best friend," she declared, as though it was common knowledge, never to be questioned, and, really, it was. Despite Mary and Moira's protests, nothing could separate Chloe and Opie from one another. They stuck together, leaned on one another, and recognized each other as forever friends and siblings.

"It's good you have him," Gabe told her sincerely, reaching over to pat her hair. "I bet you're going to miss him while we're away."

She nodded, her lips turning down. "Do you think grandma will let me call him when I'm there?"

He looked down at her. "Is it going to stop you if she says no?"

Her lips twitched in a smile as she shook her head honestly. "Nope."

Amused by her candor, he grabbed her up and threw her over his shoulder. "Come on, trouble-maker, let's go see if your mom's done her hair yet."

"I bet she isn't!"

"I bet you two dollars she is," he bargained.

"Deal!"

Moira wasn't ready and Chloe made two bucks. That weekend, her mother and grandmother bickered often. Chloe called Opie every night before bed, sneaking to the phone when her grandma and mom weren't looking, getting a wink and a subtle thumb's up from Gabe, who always seemed to know. She called Piney to say goodnight too and made him promise to take her out for dinner on Sunday to make up for the Saturday breakfast they missed. She managed not to fall in the pool, and she didn't end up needing anything extra she packed, but she insisted that it was well worth packing anyway.

* * *

_April 10, 1987_

Chloe didn't notice Gemma standing in the doorway, she was too preoccupied with the book she held in her hands. Tommy was half-asleep, lying in the small bed she sat next to, his thumb tucked in his mouth, his eyes fluttering from time to time as he tried to stay awake.

Piney had been called to 'church' for an emergency meeting with the club. Rather than go home, Chloe had opted to hang out at Gemma's house. Jax was at Opie's for a sleepover, so it was just her and Tommy for the most part. Little more than three years old, he wasn't exactly her equal, but Chloe enjoyed spending time with Tommy. With Opie, she was always the little one, looking to him for help, guidance, and inspiration, but with Tommy, she felt like she could give that to him. Sure, he had Jax, who he loved a lot, but Chloe figured he could use a sister too.

Tommy liked the Berenstain Bears stories; his favorite so far was _The Berenstain Bears to the Rescue _and _The Berenstain Bears and No Girls Allowed_, the latter of which she found particularly ironic since he always made _her _read it to him.

Half-way through _No Girls Allowed_ and Tommy had finally drifted off. Chloe closed the book and placed it on top of the stack besides his bed before she stood from the chair she'd been occupying. She tucked the blanket over his shoulders and started toward the door, startling a little when she saw Gemma standing there, but the older woman merely smiled and held her hand out. Chloe took it and followed her out of the room as Gemma turned out the light and closed the door until only a few inches remained, letting the hallway light flow through.

They walked to the kitchen, where Gemma let her hand go so she could climb onto one of the stools by the counter while she poured them each a glass of milk and broke out a bag of cookies. She winked and placed a stack in front of each of them before taking the stool on Chloe's left.

"So? How's school?"

Chloe shrugged, dipping her chocolate chip cookie in her milk. "It's all right. My teacher makes us write journals every day. I like those."

"Just those?"

She gave it some thought before nodding. "Yep!"

Gemma chuckled under her breath. "You know, you're a smart kid, Chloe. I bet you could do great things… Maybe one day you'll write your own book."

Her eyes lit up hopefully. "You think?"

"Sure," she encouraged.

"That'd be cool."

Gemma hummed agreeably.

"What about Opie?" she wondered through a mouthful, cookie crumbs tumbling down her chin.

"What about him?"

"I don't want to write books if it means I have to leave him. Would I have to leave here?"

"Depends." Gemma shrugged. "You can write from here if you want, but the good writers go out and explore the world before they write about it."

Nose scrunched up, she frowned. "Maybe Opie could come with me though, right? We could go everywhere together. He'll have his bike then too!"

With an amused smile, she shook her head. "Sure, he'll probably go with you. But you know what's even better?"

"What?"

"Going your own way," she told her. "You can get your own bike, ride these roads hard and leave tread marks on the face of anybody who tries to stop you." She dunked a cookie low in her milk and mused, "The world's big, Chloe. You can either spend your life stuck in Charming, playing shadow to your brother, or you can get out there and be the sun. You're too smart to clean up after others. Take it from someone who's had a life of it." She scoffed under her breath and bit off a chunk of her half-mushy cookie. "You want my advice, kid?"

Chloe nodded.

"You kick ass at school, get a scholarship to one of those big colleges, write a few books, live off the spoils, and wave your middle finger back at this town and everybody in it."

"Everybody?" she asked, chewing her lip.

She laughed under her breath. "Everybody, honey." With a wink, she stood from the stool. "I expect a big fat thank you for those words of wisdom in your first book, too. First time my name'll be published for something that didn't involve handcuffs." Dusting off her hands, she downed the rest of her milk and walked toward the sink.

Chloe sat thoughtfully, picking at her cookies, letting Gemma's advice sink in, though she had no idea what it would mean for her future.

* * *

_June 13, 1987_

"All right, Princess, what's the rule?" Tig asked as he knelt in front of her, his sunglasses pushed up into his curly hair, perched atop his head.

"We don't tell dad." She grinned cheekily. "'Cause he'd have your head on a spike."

"Uh-huh, and where does Uncle Tig like his head?" He wiggled his eyebrows down at her.

"On his shoulders," she laughed.

"Right." He clipped her helmet under her chin and then gave it a little rap with his knuckles. "You ready to ride?"

She nodded excitedly.

Standing, he hauled her up by her armpits and sat her down on the seat of his bike. She would be eight next month, still too small to probably be on a bike, which was why Piney always kept her in the sidecar, but Tig was a little more lenient.

Tig had a black and silver 1980 Harley Davidson FXWH Wide Glide with red and yellow flames painted on the fuel tank. His bike had a raised passenger seat behind his with a padded back. He added a seatbelt for safety, but told her she always had to hold onto his shoulders too. He never went too fast when they went for rides, no matter how much she told him he should.

Buckling her up, he put her pink glasses on to cover her eyes and then flipped his own down from his hair. Climbing onto his bike, he revved the engine and waited for her hands to fall to his shoulders and squeeze before he pulled out onto the road, smooth and easy. Her heart skittered happily as they started moving and she curled her fingers around the leather of his cut.

They just went up and down the streets of Charming for the first half hour; he didn't like to push it. She admired the familiar houses, the trees, and the shops she'd seen all her life. Charming was a pretty small town, where most knew each other. It wasn't an unfamiliar sight to see Chloe on the back of Tig's bike or the sidecar of Piney's. She was automatically affiliated with SAMCRO from birth. While she knew the people they passed in their ride, she didn't wave, she didn't see them as friends or family. They were acquaintances, familiar faces, but there had always been a distinct line between them and her. As much as the town of Charming relied on SAMCRO to keep them safe from other, _worse_, gangs, they were still leery of them. And as much as she was only eight years old, she was still the daughter of Piney, she was beloved by some of the fiercest men Charming had ever known.

To her, Tig was a teddy bear; he called her Princess and let her into the club when she wasn't technically supposed to be there. He snuck her sodas, liked to show her each and every one of his many knives, and watched Sunday morning cartoons with her at the club house while they each ate bowls of cereal. He was a big kid. She didn't see anything crazy about him, though she noticed he could be different, a little higher energy than the others. But he was loyal and caring and he treated her like she was his own, like she was his family. That was all that mattered to her.

Eventually, Tig pulled out of Charming, as he always did. He gave in to the need to drive further and faster. He took her out to the highway for a longer trip and she whooped happily as they picked up speed. Chloe felt alive when she was on a bike; she loved the wind whipping at her face. She always felt like she was floating. Like something had climbed inside her, full of energy and excitement, and it grew and grew the longer they drove. The louder the growl of the engine, the faster the bike, the more alive she felt. She belonged on a bike. It was home as much as the club house.

Some time later, as the sun was beginning to set, they headed back to town, pulling into the familiar Teller-Morrow lot. Tig parked the bike, lined up next to the others, and climbed off. He undid her helmet and seatbelt before helping her down, grinning when her legs were a little wobbly. Her hair was a mess, even with the helmet, her cheeks were flushed, and an ecstatic grin spread her lips.

Tig held out a hand and she low-fived it with her own. With a wink and a grin, he swaggered off to join the others while she turned on her heel and ran toward the club house, searching for her brother and Jax. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins and, like a junkie, she couldn't wait for her next chance to go riding. She imagined that feeling would never fade.

* * *

_July 17, 1987_

The first time Chloe met Chibs, he was visiting about SAMBEL, a new chapter of SAMCRO that JT and Keith had started up all the way over in Northern Ireland. He was young, only twenty-four. He wasn't as tall as her dad was, but he stood a good 6 feet. He was broad-shouldered and lanky, with dark hair pushed back into a ponytail at his nape, and two deep scars that ran down his cheeks to curl at his jaw. He grinned down at her as he climbed off his bike, winking.

"An' how are yeh doin' this fine mornin', missy?" he wondered, kneeling down beside her, tucking his sunglasses in his shirt.

Her eyes lit up. "You have an accent!"

"Aye, a Scottish brogue," he replied with enthusiastic drama.

"Are you here to see JT?" she wondered, eyeing his leather cut; the patch on the left side of his chest read 'Prospect.'

"I am," he agreed, nodding. "Would yeh be able ta' point me in the right direction?"

Turning on her heel, she started walking, and with a light chuckle, he followed after her.

Chloe turned her head up to look at him, one eye closed against the sun. "What's your name?" she wondered.

"My mum called me Filip," he answered. "But my friends call me Chibs."

Her brow furrowed curiously. "How come?"

"Yeh see these?" His gloved finger followed one deep, red scar over his cheek.

She nodded.

"Was a knife that did that, and in Scotland, knife is 'chib.'" He winked down at her. "Knife can't hurt me if I'm the knife."

"You're smart." She grinned. "I bet JT likes you."

He laughed under his breath. "Here's hopin'. If I'm lucky, I might get myself transferred over her ta' SAMCRO."

"I don't know if we need any more knives," she joked. "Uncle Tig already has sixteen."

"Yeh don' say?"

She nodded. "He collects them."

Stopping outside of the office door, Chloe rapped her fist against it and then stood back. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Chibs. I hope you get patched in!" she told him.

"It was a pleasure ta' meet you too," he said, nodding down at her, a smile playing over his lips.

The door swung open then and JT stood before them. "See you've met Chloe..."

"Aye, she's a good guide."

Chloe grinned before leaving them to their conversation and going in search of her brother. She wouldn't see the nice Scottish man again that day, but she would hear about him in passing.

* * *

_September 3, 1987_

Chloe was searching for a lighter. She knew there'd be one somewhere, just about everyone in the club smoked something or other. She checked behind the bar and around the pool table before finally finding one on an end table by the couch. Pocketing it and grinning to herself, she was halfway to the door, excited for Opie to light the firecrackers he and Jax found, when she heard what sounded like crying. Pausing, she backtracked, her brow furrowed. Her head cocked curiously, she walked toward the sound, following it right into the bathroom.

Gemma hadn't locked it, obviously thinking that she'd have some privacy in the club when all the guys were working in the shop. She was sobbing into her hands, hunched over, and Chloe lowered her gaze, feeling like she was intruding. She knew immediately what was wrong. Jax had been moody lately and finally told Opie that Tommy was sick. Something was wrong with his heart and there were all these surgeries they had to do for him to be better. But they were expensive and it was stressing out his parents. Jax was worried that Tommy was going to die… For the first time, seeing Gemma, she realized maybe that was a possibility.

Standing there, knowing that Gemma hadn't seen her, she considered just leaving. If there was one thing she knew it was that Gemma was proud and she wouldn't like knowing she'd been caught crying. But another part of her felt bad about that and it was what pushed her into acting. Stepping inside the bathroom, she walked right up to her and wrapped her arms around Gemma, who was shaking under her. She startled at first, inhaling sharply, and raised her head to look at Chloe, her mascara running down her cheeks.

Chloe reached over and tore off some toilet paper, using it to wipe away the messy make-up.

"I'm sure Tommy will be okay," she said quietly. "He's strong, just like his mom and dad and even his brother." She nodded. "If he's as stubborn as Jax, he'll live forever."

Gemma let out a choked laugh, just watching her for a moment, her brow furrowed. Chloe decided it was better to hug than talk and wrapped her arms around Gemma's neck. The older woman took a few minutes to get herself together, patting Chloe's back as she did. Finally, she stood, cleaned herself up, and then walked them back into the bar area.

"Don't you have some boys to be keep an eye on?" Gemma teased her, nudging her shoulder.

Grinning, she nodded, and took off at a run toward the door. Jax and Opie complained that she took forever when she finally arrived, but Chloe just shrugged it off. She didn't tell them what she'd seen with Gemma; she deserved that respect.

Later that night, when Clay broke out a barbecue and made everybody burgers, Chloe sat on a milk crate between her brother and Jax. She looked up, surprised, when Gemma tugged on her hair. Leaning her head back, she half-smiled when Gemma simply kissed her cheek and said, "Thank you, baby," before walking off, letting the whole thing go.

"What was that?" Jax asked through a mouthful.

Chloe shrugged.

"Hey, do you still have that lighter?" Opie wondered.

And just like that, the subject was never brought up again.

* * *

_February 1, 1988_

Chloe sat atop a rolling stool, watching the new mechanic as he worked.

His hair fascinated her. It was frizzy and curly and seemed to have a life of its own. The man, _Bobby_, muttered under his breath a lot. He'd recently moved to Charming and, while he wasn't wearing a prospect patch yet, she figured it was just a matter of time. Chloe didn't usually befriend the prospects. She thought it was smarter not to get close just in case they didn't get full patches. If they didn't become SAMCRO, they didn't come by the club anymore, and she usually took it to mean that the Sons didn't trust them, so then she shouldn't either. But she liked Bobby. She liked him just as she'd liked Chibs when he'd passed through from SAMBEL. She got a feeling in her gut that, like her favorite Scotsman, Bobby would become a brother of the club.

"You ever hear of Elvis, kid?" he wondered, turning to look at her, a thick eyebrow raised.

She shook her head.

"No?" He stood up, wiping his hands on a rag. "You never heard of the lip curl…" He showed her his, leaving his lip twitching comically. "Or the hair, real big up top, with just a little curl to hang down over his forehead…" He smoothed his hand over his hair, but Chloe thought he just looked silly. "Had the best dance moves, too…" He thrust his hips around side to side and waved his arms around. Combined with the curled lip, it made Chloe burst into a fit of laughter.

"You just call me… _Bobby Elvis_," he said, in a deep, animated drawl.

"I'd like to call ya 'working,'" Clay's voice interrupted.

Bobby straightened, a faint grin pulling at his lips. "Sorry… Just trying to educate the kid on some classics."

"Do you know who Elvis is?" Chloe asked, turning to look at Clay inquisitively.

He nodded at her. "Yeah, sure, I do." Walking over, he took down one of the rags and handed it to her. "C'mon, you wanna hang out in the shop, why don't we find you something to polish?"

"A bike?" she asked hopefully, bouncing on her tip-toes.

He laughed under his breath and picked her up, carrying her in the crook of his elbow. "Sure thing. We'll get you polishing my bike, how's that sound?"

She nodded agreeably and he grinned, carrying her out of the shop and toward the line of bikes. Turning her head back, she shouted, "See ya, Bobby Elvis!"

He waved at her, smiling.

She hoped he stuck around.

* * *

_March 3, 1988_

Chloe rested her chin on her hands, staring at her mother's blank face, her eyes distant. Moira's episodes had been more and more frequent as time went on and Chloe had been timing this one for over twenty-three minutes.

The front door snapped shut and she looked up and over to see her step-dad walk inside, shrugging off his heavy jacket. He worked up at the mill just about seven days a week and was always tired when he got home. He greeted her with a weary smile all the same, only letting it slip as he set eyes on his wife.

"How long?" he wondered.

"Twenty-four minutes and fifteen seconds," she answered smartly.

He hummed, nodding, and made his way to the kitchen. "She make dinner?"

Shaking her head, she sat back in her chair, her legs swinging. "She said something about leftovers."

Gabe checked the fridge but found the shelves mostly empty. "She didn't go shopping this week?"

Chloe hopped off her chair and walked over. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p.'

He frowned. "Where have you been eating?"

She cast her eyes away; she didn't like to lie to Gabe.

"Around," she answered with a shrug.

Closing the fridge door, he dug his hand into his pocket and came up with his keys. "All right, how about you and I go pick something up for dinner?" he offered, half-smiling. "Hopefully, by the time we get back, she'll be… back to usual, right?"

"Sure." Chloe moved down the hall to put her shoes on, letting Gabe walk ahead of her and open the door. She cast one last uncertain look back at her mom and then left.

Moira's record was originally twenty-one minutes.

By the time they got back from picking up fried chicken, her record was forty-nine. She snapped out of it shortly after they set the table and nobody talked about what happened, but Chloe wrote it down in the log she kept and spent a lot of time wondering what it meant.

* * *

_April 6, 1988_

Over the last year, SAMCRO had been meeting more and more. They'd been taking more trips, dealing with more people, and the talk in the room had gotten progressively darker. Chloe knew, on some level, that the club she'd grown up in, of men just looking for freedom, for a place to be themselves and accepted, was changing. As a girl who had only known the men as loyal and trustworthy, who would do anything to keep her and those she cared about safe, she assumed that this change would be good, that it was necessary.

Chloe was what her dad liked to call curious, but what most others called nosy. As she grew up, her curiosity about what was said around the table in church nagged at her. None of the kids were allowed inside the room; it was only SAMCRO members that sat at the table and discussed business. More than once, she'd convinced Opie to try and listen in with her, and every time they were caught. Usually by Tig, probably the most suspicious of the group, who would boot them outside. Later, Piney would lecture them about eavesdropping. Eventually, it got harder and harder to convince Opie to join in, but it never stopped Chloe from trying to find out what SAMCRO was planning behind closed doors.

Chloe was born with an insatiable need to know, well, _everything_. Sure, that first day of school she'd been less than enthusiastic, but as time went on, she realized knowledge was her big ticket. And she didn't just mean world-wise, but Charming-wise too. Chloe wasn't stupid. For an eight, going on nine, year old, she was actually pretty damn smart. So she listened when the boys of SAMCRO talked. She knew far more than she should, all because they were so used to her that she could fly under the radar. She was trusted, maybe not enough to sit in on meetings, but enough that they knew she'd never rat. And she wouldn't. If she learned anything growing up under the feet of the Sons of Anarchy, it was that loyalty was everything. Besides, they were her family.

Her understanding of right and wrong was, admittedly, a little skewed, in part because a little of her loved all her "uncles" so much that she preferred to think they could do no wrong. But she knew that they did bad things sometimes, she knew that they had hurt people. It was justified to her as what was 'necessary to protect the club.' And she got it, on some level. The club, the Sons, had to come first, above all and everyone else.

Still, she wanted to know, she _needed _to know, everything. So she kept trying, and usually failing, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. In fact, she knew far too much. What she did with that information? Well, nothing, really. She was still just a kid. So she filed it away, she added it to the tall pile of things she already knew about the men around her, good, bad, neutral. And it never changed how she saw them.

Were they all good people? Probably not. But they were _her _people. And that was what mattered.

* * *

_August 20, 1988_

Chloe sat on a stool, sipping her soda through a straw, watching some of the guys play pool, a wad of cash stacked up for whoever won. On the couch, Lenny was entertaining three different women, while Bobby stood by the jukebox, an arm around another blonde. She honestly couldn't tell if Uncle Tom was getting frisky with the woman he was talking to or casually trying to pick her pockets; it could be both. Chico, Tig, Clay and Piney were all more interested in the pool table, but there were more than a few women hanging around, waiting for their chance to distract them.

Usually, around this time, when the party started to lean more toward women losing their clothes and the guys forgetting all about propriety, Gemma ushered her out of the club. But she was currently out of town, another check-up for Tommy. JT had gone with her, which left Clay, as vice president, in charge.

"Hey, half-pint," called a familiar, raspy voice.

Chloe looked over, spotted Lenny nodding at her, and hopped down from her stool, crossing the room toward him. Two of the three girls he was with pouted at the loss of attention.

"You wanna make a few bucks?"

Her brows perked up. "I'm listening…"

He smirked at her, amused. "Round up your brother and Jackie, I'll give you a few bucks, you pick me up a couple packs of smokes, take the rest, buy what you want. How's that sound?"

Seeing as Lenny wasn't one to pass around money, she was skeptical. Lenny was smart, like genius-level smart, and he never made split-second decisions, especially ones that didn't benefit him more than others. At least, not those outside of the immediate brothers of the club.

"What's the catch?" she wondered, putting a hand on her hip.

"Listen, you're doing me a favor, I'm doing you a favor…" He waved a hand around. "You don't need to be around these crow-eater's… Where's your mom at now, anyway?"

She cast her eyes away and shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed. "The corner store a couple blocks over rents out movies. You grab my smokes, you get you and the boys something to watch, a few snacks, and we're even."

Ignoring the rest, she wondered, "What's a crow-eater?"

He shook his head. "Nothing you wanna be and nothing you're gonna see." He dug into his pocket and came out with his wallet before handing over two ten dollar bills. "Bring me back two packs of—"

"Camels," she said knowingly, nodding as she snagged the bills from his fingers.

"And take the boys," he shouted after her as she turned on her heel, jogging toward the door.

She waved a hand back at him over her shoulder.

A few minutes later, she found the boys playing with fire crackers in the lot and told them what was happening. They grabbed up their identical Schwinn bikes and Chloe climbed up to sit on the handlebars of Opie's for the short ride over, adding commentary as the boys tried to pick what movie they wanted to watch.

"What about Karate Kid 2?" Opie wondered.

"Nah, the first one was way better," Jax said, shaking his head. "We should get something creepy… Like Critters."

"Or Aliens," Chloe offered.

"Labyrinth looked weird," Opie said.

"We could get something funny, like Ferris Bueller's Day Off," she added, shrugging.

Jax's back tire skidded as he came to a halt in front of the store and left his bike leaning against the curb, waiting for them before he walked toward the door. "How much extra money do you think we'll have?"

"I dunno. Why? You want to get a couple movies?"

He held the door open and Chloe ducked under his arm to walk in, waving at Shirley behind the counter. Popping her gum, the cashier nodded her chin toward them in hello, flipping a page on her magazine and otherwise ignoring them as they walked around.

It took Opie all of ten minutes before he gave up arguing with them about movies and instead went to check out the junk food.

"Hey, Jax?"

"Yeah?" He grabbed up another video and turned it over to read the back.

"What's a crow-eater?"

He paused and then turned to look at her, his brow raised. "How come?"

She shrugged. "Lenny said it earlier; he said I'd never be one and I shouldn't hang around them."

He tucked the moved back on the shelf and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "It's something they call the girls who hang around the club, the ones who are always trying to hook up, catch their attention…"

Her brows furrowed. "So… it's like an old lady?"

"No." He shook his head, shifting his feet awkwardly. "See, old lady is a wife. She's special."

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "She can't be too special. Half the club's got old ladies and they still hook up with other girls."

He sighed. "Look, I dunno. I just know a crow-eater is someone who _wants _to be an old lady but ain't."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Well I think it's stupid. Old lady, crow-eater, _whatever_, I don't want to be any of it." Reaching out, she grabbed Ghostbusters off the shelf. "Let's go. Before Ope spends all our money on cheesies."

As she walked away, Jax hurried to catch up, falling into step with her. "Hey…?"

She looked over.

"I don't know what it all means… but I know if _I _had an old lady…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't waste my time with anybody else."

Despite still thinking the hierarchy system was ridiculous, Chloe half-smiled at him. For all that she bugged Jax, he was her friend, and she liked it when he said things like that, when he showed a side of himself that was different.

"Ghostbuster? _Again?_" Opie asked, chewing on a string of licorice.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, again." Reaching out, she tore off half his licorice and stuck the end between her teeth. "You ready to go?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

Taking the movie up to the front, she waited for her brother and Jax to add the chips, pop, and popcorn they were getting, and then handed over the money before adding in the two packs of Camels for Lenny. Shirley didn't so much as bat an eye as she tossed the cigarettes into the bag with the pop.

The ride back to the club house was mostly spent listening to her brother and Jax trade jabs at each other. She smiled to herself, tipping her head back and enjoying the cool air against her warm skin. Her earlier contemplation on life and the women who surrounded the men of SAMCRO was forgotten. She was just a girl; she didn't even know what she wanted out of her life yet. She only knew that she was free and happy and, while it wasn't a motorcycle, she was riding through life at a pace she liked.

[**Next**: Part Three.]

* * *

**Author's Note**: _I'm pleasantly surprised with the amount of interest I received for this story! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. Two of my favorite characters were introduced in this chapter - I freaking LOVE Chibs and Bobby - and I always enjoy writing both Tig and Gemma, so I hope you guys liked them too._

_Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what stood out for you, it's always appreciated!_

- **Lee | Fina**


	3. Chapter Three

**Title**: Daughter of Anarchy  
**Category**: Smallville/Sons of Anarchy  
**Genre**: Drama/Romance  
**Ship**: Jax Teller/Chloe Sullivan  
**Chapter Rating**: PG  
**Overall Rating**: Explicit/NC-17  
**Word Count**: 7,067  
**Warning(s)**: Strong Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault  
**Summary**: [Prequel] Chloe Sullivan-Winston, bastard child of Piney, grew up under the feet of SAMCRO's biggest and baddest. She walked the line of good and bad, alongside her half-brother Opie and his best friend Jax. Calling some of the meanest bikers 'uncle,' she grew up avoiding her mentally ill mother while she learned how to shoot guns, fix bikes, and shark pool. The first eighteen years of her life, Chloe called Charming, California her home, the club house her safe haven, and SAMCRO her family.

**_Daughter of Anarchy_**  
-Novel-

**Part Three**.

_June 12, 1989_

Despite the frustration it caused her, Chloe kept coming back for more. Ever since Chibs patched over to become a member of SAMCRO, she'd been trying to get him to teach her Gaelic. Unfortunately, while it flowed from him quiet easily, and even sounded pretty when he talked, she felt like she was butchering it.

She frowned. "No, say it again, but slower."

Chibs nodded at her, sounding it out slowly, "KIM-mer uh HAH shiv?" He watched her, brows hiked, and repeated it without the emphasis, "_Ciamar a tha sibh?_"

She tried, her tongue tripping over it a little.

He smiled. "_Tha gu math, tapadh leibh!_"

Her brow furrowed. "That wasn't the same thing…"

He laughed under his breath. "You asked me how I was, an' I told you, 'I'm well, thank you.'"

Chloe threw her head back and sighed.

"Come on," he encouraged. "We'll try a few more and then I can teach you '_Tha, beagan_.'"

She blinked at him.

"So when somebody asks you '_A bheil Gàidhlig agaibh_?' or 'Do you speak Gaelic?' you can tell 'em, '_Tha, began_.'" He nodded. "'A little.'"

Chloe slumped in her chair. "And I thought _math _was hard…"

He patted her shoulder and grinned. "You're doin' just fine. Before yeh know it, you'll be a pro. It'll be nice havin' someone around who knows what I'm talkin' about."

Hearing that only made her more resolved to try harder.

Taking a deep breath, she sat up straighter, lifting her chin stubbornly. "Okay, let's try it again."

And so went the rest of the day.

By the time dinner rolled around, he wondered, "_A bheil an t-acras ort?_" (Are you hungry?)

And with a proud smile, she said slowly, "_Ceart gu leòr. Tha an t-acras orm_." (You bet. I'm hungry!)

"Atta girl," he praised.

They celebrated with burgers and fries at Pat's diner; Chloe thought she might be better at math if it was as rewarding.

* * *

_July 24, 1989_

When Chloe found out that Mary had just packed up and left town with Opie, she was inconsolable. "You have to bring him back," she told her dad. "She can't have him! He doesn't even _like _her!"

"Chloe, Mary is Opie's mom. I can't control what she does… I—I don't even know where she went." Piney sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"This isn't fair." She stomped her foot. "He doesn't want to be with her. This is home! We're his _family!_" Tears streaked down her cheeks. "I want him back!" Her voice cracked. "Make her give him back!"

Hushing her, he gathered her up into his arms and hugged her close, rubbing her back soothingly. It took a while, but Chloe eventually sobbed herself to sleep in his arms. When she woke up back in her bed, she was confused, and when she remembered, she only curled up in a ball and cried some more.

A lethargic Chloe took to sitting outside of Mary's house, now empty, leaning against the spot underneath Opie's window, waiting for him to come back. Sometimes, Jax would come and sit with her, and if she was feeling particularly sad, she would cry on his shoulder. At the club, she sat on the couch, waiting. It didn't matter how many times Tig told jokes with his odd sense of humor, or Bobby sang an Elvis song for her, or Uncle Tom brought her something he'd recently stolen just for her, she absolutely refused to be cheered up. And if anybody asked her what they could do, her answer was always the same. "I want Opie."

SAMCRO was at an impasse. If they looked for Opie and brought him back, Mary could bring the law into things, and the club didn't need law enforcement breathing down their necks. At the same time, it was Opie, it was Piney's son, and it wasn't right what Mary did, taking off in the middle of the night without anything but some divorce papers left behind and a note that said she was starting over and giving Opie a better life elsewhere.

* * *

_August 27, 1989_

A tapping at her window woke Chloe. She startled in her bed, sitting up quickly, and blinked as she looked around her dark bedroom. Another tap had her head turning toward it and she saw a fist and, when she squinted, the top of a familiar blond head. Leaving her bed, she walked over and opened the window, standing on her tip toes to look out at Jax. "What are you doing here?"

"_Shhh!_" He pressed a finger to his lips meaningfully, looking around to see if anybody was around.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Well?"

He stood upright, hands tucked in his pockets, and shifted his feet. "Ope called me."

Her face lit up, and then dimmed. "Why didn't he call me?" she wondered angrily.

"He didn't have time. Look, he… He's coming back."

Her heart soared. "When? _Now?_ Is dad picking him up somewhere?" She wiggled excitedly. "Tig promised he'd find him! I knew he wouldn't lie to me!"

Jax shook his head. "No, it's…" He sighed. "Opie ran away from Mary. He's gonna hop this train; he said it runs right through Charming. He told me to meet him down at the tracks, that he'd be there around 3 o'clock tonight…" He chewed his lip. "I thought you'd wanna come."

Chloe had barely waited for him to finish his sentence before she was racing across her room to pull on a pair of shoes and her jacket. With that, she climbed out of her window, hopping down to the ground next to him and dusting her hands off. "Let's go!"

He half-grinned, shaking his head at her in amusement.

They ran the whole way to the train tracks, ducking down alleys and avoiding any of the main roads where they might be seen and caught. The grinding sound of metal on metal, trains lumbering down the tracks, was loud and eerie. It was cold for summer too, making her tuck her hands in the pockets of her coat. Jax walked down one side of the tracks, his arms out, trying to balance, while she trekked along beside him.

"Do you think Mary will come back and try and take him again?"

He looked over at her and frowned before shrugging. "I dunno… Maybe."

Turning her face away, she scowled. "Why can't _she _just go away?"

"I heard my parents talking about it… Mom said Mary thought SAMCRO was a bad influence. She thought Piney was a bad dad and that if she didn't go then Opie would be just as bad, or worse." His brows hiked high on his forehead. "Can you believe that?"

Chloe snorted. "Opie's the nice one. He could never be a bad guy."

Jax hummed, looking back down at the tracks. "You ever wonder though, like, what it _means_ to be bad?"

She stared up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno, like… Maybe what _other _people think is bad isn't what _we _think is bad…"

She frowned. "Like when we were little and I thought cheating was wrong, but you said it was only if other people knew."

He half-smiled. "Yeah, like that."

"At school, we're taught stealing is wrong…" She shrugged. "But at home, I mean, Uncle Tom steals everything."

He laughed, reaching up and running a hand through his hair.

"So, who's right then?" she wondered, peering over at him.

He turned to look at her, staring at her a long moment. "I don't know. Maybe nobody's right… Maybe nobody's good or bad, we just… _are_."

Crossing her arms, she replied, "Or maybe we're all bad _and _good…"

"Maybe."

A train started pulled down the tracks then and they hopped off, walking along beside it as it chugged past. But when a steel door pulled open on one of the carts and a dirty Opie hopped out, they picked up their pace, running toward him. He grinned up at them from where he sat on the ground, a bag over his shoulder with what little he'd brought home with him. Jax reached a hand out to help him up and pulled him into a one-armed hug. Chloe bounced impatiently next to them until Jax pulled back and then she shoved her way forward and hugged her brother.

Opie squeezed her tightly. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

She shook her head quickly. "Wasn't your fault."

"I didn't know we were leaving. She said we were just gonna visit some family out of town…"

Chloe held him tighter. "You're never allowed to leave again," she told him.

"I didn't wanna go in the first place," he reminded.

"Well, now it's a rule!"

He chuckled under his breath, but nodded.

Pulling back, she smiled triumphantly up at him. "Come on… I'd take you home but Gabe would probably wake up and then mom would freak out and you know how she is. So we'll sneak you into one of the rooms at the club."

"Yeah? And how are we gonna do that? They lock all the doors, remember?" Jax offered up.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid. Tom showed me how to pick the locks…" She grinned, skipping forward in front of them. "You don't become a master thief like him without breaking into a few places."

Her brother and Jax merely grinned at her.

"You're a criminal in the making, Little Winston," Jax told her, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

Huffing, she shoved him off her. "Then I'll fit right in."

They walked back to the club house, trading lighthearted conversation, and relishing in having Opie back with them. It was four in the morning when they walked into the club. Chloe picked a lock on one of the doors and, exhausted, all three of them collapsed on the bed together, with Chloe's head at one end and her feet up between the two boys' shoulders. She woke up briefly sometime around 9 am when Gemma found them, but Jax's mom simply threw a blanket over them, kissed her son's forehead, and left them to sleep it off.

Come morning, Opie was welcomed with open arms. He was home; exactly where he was supposed to be. And when Mary came calling, that's exactly what Opie told her. She wasn't happy about it, but she didn't try to take him again; she knew he'd always find a way home.

* * *

_October 29, 1989_

Chloe hated black. The last time she had to wear it, she was six years old and they were burying Otto; she vaguely remembered wondering at the complexities of death with John Teller. She didn't like funerals any then and she hated them now. The turnout for Gabe Sullivan wasn't like it was for Otto Moran. There weren't Harley's lining the roads, men didn't crowd around to lay flowers on the casket or say a few words in his honor. His cut wasn't handed to his wife in respect because he didn't have one. Gabe was just a regular guy with a few friends from work that came to give their condolences. He was killed in an accident at the mill, there was no one to blame, no revenge to exact like after Otto's death.

Moira wept as the pastor said a prayer and Chloe gripped her brother's hand tighter. It said a lot that Moira didn't balk at Opie coming to the funeral. Either she was too depressed about Gabe's death to care or she didn't notice that he was there. Whatever the reason, Chloe couldn't help be glad for it.

Gabe was a good guy and she did love him. He was a dad to her in many ways and he made living at home easier than it might've been without him. She was sad that he died, that her mom was hurting, and that he wouldn't be there when she got home.

She let a few tears squeeze out and leaned against Opie's shoulder, grateful when his arm wrapped around her tightly.

Gabe was family. Maybe not to the same degree as most of the other men in her life, but he cared for her, fed her, clothed her, and listened to her when things with her mom were rough. He, probably better than anyone, understood how hard it was to live with Moira, with her increasing episodes making things more and more difficult. And now he was gone, and maybe it was selfish but Chloe couldn't help but be angry with him that he'd left her behind to deal with Moira on her own.

Closing her eyes, she turned and buried her face against her brother. She said a silent farewell to her step-dad, and hoped he was better off wherever he was.

* * *

_November 15, 1989_

Chloe watched the other kids running around, enjoying their lunch break. Some were playing tag, others were on the jungle gym, while some of the older kids sat around together in groups.

"I'm hungry," she declared.

Opie looked over at her from where he was dribbling a basketball, his brow furrowed. "Did you already eat your lunch?"

She shook her head. "Moira didn't make me one."

His eyes bulged in surprise. "So you haven't eaten since breakfast?" He let the ball wander away and walked over to her, taking a seat on the grass with her. "Moira still pretty upset over Gabe?"

Chloe nodded. "She's really quiet now… Sometimes I think she's having an episode, but I don't think that's it… She's not sleeping either, but she went to a doctor for that. Now she takes these pills and she just passes out." Turning her gaze down, she focused on the grass as she plucked it from the ground, making a small pile in front of her. "Opie, do you think Mary loves you?"

He gave it some thought before he shrugged. "I dunno… I guess so. I mean, she wanted me to go with her when she left."

"Do you think _you _love her?" She turned her head to watch him. "'Cause you didn't stay, so…"

"I love her… She's my mom." His lips twisted in a confused frown. "I just don't fit with her, you know? I… It makes sense here. I belong here."

Chloe nodded. "I don't know if I love my mom…" She threw a handful of grass away. "I don't like her, I know that." Her nose scrunched up. "Can you love someone and not like them at the same time?"

"Sure." He leaned over to bump her shoulder. "Hey, it doesn't matter if Moira's around, right? You got me!"

Smiling faintly, she looked up at him. "Who says I like you?"

He laughed, resting his arms on his upturned knees. "Whatever. Everybody knows I'm your favorite."

She shrugged. "I dunno. Tig's pretty awesome."

"Sure, if you like 'em crazy."

"Maybe I do."

Shaking his head, amused, Opie just watched her out of the corner of his eyes for a moment. His smile faded. "You know, you could come stay at the club house," he told her. "Or tell dad, he's already thinking of buying that old cabin."

Sobering, she shook her head. "I can't leave now. She just lost Gabe."

With a sigh, he frowned at her. "What about what's good for you?"

She forced a smile and stood up. "I'll survive." With that, she walked toward the basketball court and grabbed up the ball. "C'mon. Let's play HORSE."

Sighing, Opie followed after her, dusting grass off his jeans.

He would let it go, but he wouldn't forget.

* * *

_December, 1989_

Things got worse without Gabe, but Chloe had no idea just how much worse they were going to get. Without him there to help out, Moira became less and less capable of taking care of the house or Chloe. The fridge was almost always empty, the dishes never done, the bills rarely paid on time, if ever, and the medication she'd been prescribed by her doctor had created a whole new problem.

Originally, Moira had been prescribed a sleep aid. From there, she was seeing her doctor about every little ache and pain and, before she knew it, she had a prescription med problem. It wasn't so much 'episodes' anymore as Moira seemed to always be in a state of zoned out. More than once, Chloe had found her slumped in a chair, eyes open, drooling absently.

Chloe tried to keep up at home; if she wasn't at school or the club, she cleaned up, snagged some money from her mom's purse for groceries, cooked, and generally tried to keep afloat. Since Chloe was too young to work and Moira lost her job, they were just getting by on what they'd made from the life insurance policy Gabe had for himself. But after paying burial costs, it wasn't a whole lot. She knew that eventually she'd have to break down and ask her dad for help. That, or risk being kicked out on the street when the mortgage didn't get paid.

But for now, she was scraping by, so she would cope and try not to bring too much attention to herself. She still had the club to go to if she needed it, and so she spent most of her time there, hanging with the boys or trailing after Opie and Jax until she was forced to head home. It would have to be enough.

* * *

_April 9, 1990_

When Chloe had to don black again, the club joined her. It wasn't to honor a fallen brother of the cut though, which she thought actually made the service that much sadder. Tommy Teller died from his congenital heart defect only five days earlier. Gemma was inconsolable, sobbing against John's chest as the men of SAMCRO each laid flowers on the small casket.

Chloe stared across the way at a stoic Jax, his hands clasped in front of him, his usually easy-going grin long gone. Opie stood beside him, his hand on his shoulder consolingly. A lump formed in her throat, of emotion and things unsaid. There was a lot she wanted to say; how sorry she was, how sweet Tommy was, that she would miss him, but she didn't know how to say them. And she didn't like that, in the end, words didn't change anything. So instead, she laid her own yellow flower down on the casket and she stepped back, leaning against her Uncle Clay, his hand patting her head comfortingly.

After the service, they all ended up back at the club, but it was somber, emptier than she ever remembered it being, and she spent much of her time sitting on a couch, staring at a toy car somebody hadn't put away, wondering if it was Tommy's and who would play with it now.

It'd be hours later when she found Jax out back, sitting against an old, rusted oil drum, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were ringed red and his jaw was clenched tight. He didn't say anything and she took his cue. Sitting down next to him, she stayed quiet and, after a few minutes, simply put her hand on his.

She knew he was crying, she could feel him trembling; every once in a while, she heard him sniffle. But she didn't bring attention to it, didn't tease him like she might have under different circumstances, she just sat with him until the sun set and Bobby came out to get them. So they climbed up from the dirt ground and walked back toward the club house, but just as she was about to open the door, Jax stopped her.

He didn't say anything, just stared at her a long second before he pulled her in for a hug. It was over as quickly as it started and then he was walking inside. She followed after him, wondering if she'd ever get used to death and its many victims.

* * *

_May 5, 1990_

It wasn't unusual of late to find JT drinking early in the morning. Chloe arrived at the club looking for Opie, but it looked like he and Jax had taken off earlier. As she approached, she found JT sitting at the bar, a cup in hand and a bottle of Jack half empty. She climbed up on to the stool next to him but didn't say anything, just resting her chin on her hand, flat against the bar, watching the arms tick by on the clock.

"Tommy liked you," he finally said, his voice raspy.

She looked over at him and smiled faintly. "I liked him, too."

"You were good to him. Nice, always played with him, watched him when we couldn't… Bit like an older sister to him, I guess."

"I tried to be."

He hummed, nodding, and reached for the bottle with a shaking hand, pouring himself another glass. "You remember, Chloe, when we talked about how death sometimes takes people?"

She nodded.

He let the bottle fall back to the bar with a clank and stared down into his glass at the amber liquid. "It's hard when ya have an enemy that ya can't fight…" He turned to look at her, his eyes a little glazed, dark bags underneath them. "I've got a whole army of guns and nobody to shoot."

"Is death always the enemy?" she wondered.

He smiled faintly. "Death is my friend when it takes my enemy and my enemy when it takes my friends." He lifted his glass in cheers and shot it back.

Chloe stared up at him, a man she'd always admired for his sharp and vast intelligence. "I'm really sorry about Tommy," she whispered.

"Yeah…" He swallowed thickly. "Yeah, me too."

It was a few minutes later that Chloe stood, capped the bottle, and circled around to the bar. She got out the coffee maker and plugged it in, preparing a pot, all while JT watched her at work. Finally, she exchanged his glass of whiskey for a mug of black coffee.

"I don't want you getting too friendly with death," she told him, pouring the whiskey down the sink drain, which was a metaphor more than anything since she was surrounded with more than enough bottles to replace it. "And I don't think Tommy would either."

His jaw flexed and he turned his eyes down to the coffee he reached for with his shaking hand. She covered it and wrapped his fingers around the mug.

"It's okay to be sad… Mom misses Gabe so bad sometimes she cries herself to sleep."

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed, and he nodded. "You're a smart kid, Chloe."

She grinned. "I grew up around some pretty smart people."

He laughed under his breath. "Don't tell Bobby that; it'll go to his head."

Resting her elbows on the bar, she watched as he lifted his coffee and took a long drink. She watched him thoughtfully before wondering, "Do you think you'll be okay?"

He stared back at her before digging a cigarette out, tucking it between his lips, and lighting it. "_This life has been nothing for me but pleasure. The worst adversity is only a length I measure_."

A smile played at the edges of her lips. "Michael McClure."

He winked at her. "Rare Angel, 1974," he agreed. "Smart, smart kid."

She sat with him until he finished his coffee and then challenged him to a game of checkers.

He still won, and she took that as a good sign. But in the end, it wouldn't be the last time she found JT getting drunk and the truth was, he never was okay again.

* * *

_February 6, 1990_

"Now, yeh promise not t' tell yer da' about this, right?" Chibs asked, turning his gun, a smooth, black Beretta, over in his hands.

She grinned up at him. Holding up two fingers, she told him, "Scout's honor."

He smirked toothily and turned to face the fence, where bottles were all lined up. "Now this gun in't like those BB guns you and yer brother been playin' with," he warned, playing with the safety. "This one's got kick and, if you're not holdin' it right, it's gonna kick yeh right in the face."

Nodding, she listened to him closely as he told her how to stand, how to aim, which way to grip the gun, to squeeze not pull the trigger.

At ten years old, Chloe learned how to shoot a gun. She shattered three out of the ten bottles Chibs set up for her and felt a weird sense of power with each bullet that left the chamber. For just a moment, it scared her. Not in the way that it might others, where they understood that guns could mean death, and she could accidentally shoot herself or someone innocent. No, it scared her in the way that she liked it. She liked the weight of it in her palm, the pressure each time she squeezed the trigger, the totality of what it meant.

When Chibs lined up another ten bottles, she shot four. On her sixth try, she got them all. And not for the first time, she felt like a true daughter of SAMCRO.

* * *

_April 1991_

"I'm telling you, the Mayans are expanding… I'm seeing their shit all over the damn place. We got junkies strung out in the goddamn super market. If I have to tell my kids one more damn time that it's just a bad flu goin' around, I'm gonna blown someone's brains out," Wally shouted.

"All right, all right, calm down," JT replied. "What proof do we have that it's the Mayans that are selling here?"

"I'm telling you it's them, brother," Chico sighed. "They're pushing me out, trying to keep it hush-hush, but they've been askin' around, they want to know who's dealing in Charming. They're already spreading down San Joaquin County and they're headed right for us."

"Thought we had a deal with 'em. You said you had 'em in your pocket," Clay grunted.

"Thought I did. But they know where my loyalties are; they gotta think about their club."

"If we do this, what you're talking about here is all-out _war!_" JT exclaimed.

Chloe leaned in closer as a tense hush fell over the room. She'd had to pick a lock to one of the bedrooms and press a glass up against the wall to hear them, but some things were worth the effort. Things had been tense for months, but none of the guys would let her in on what was happening. Now that she knew, her heart hammered in her chest. The Mayans were a predominantly Mexican motorcycle club that controlled Southern California and Nevada; their main export was drugs and it looked like they wanted Charming to be their next pit-stop.

"So let's say we _do _go to war, then what?" Piney wondered.

"You mean besides a jump in our casualty count?" Clay returned.

"I _mean_, what if war is the only way we keep these assholes out of Charming?"

Grumbles could be heard, discontent and uncertainty abounding.

"No, listen, these guys are pushing their way in whether we like it or not, so the only way we get them out is to push back… They didn't come knockin' on our days, askin' permission, they just rolled in and started sellin'. It sends a _message_… So we need to reply!"

"You guys need to remember what war means…" JT intervened before his club got too caught up. "We hit them, they hit back, and we have more than just ourselves to think about here. Most of us have families, _kids_ to think about."

"That's who we're fighting for here too, JT! Those Mayans come in here and they're not gonna care _who _they're sellin' too! We'll have no control over who snorts what."

The arguing went on for a while, and Chloe listened intently to it all.

Finally, as the gavel hit the table, she left the room and walked right out the back of the club house. She ran all the way over to old Mister Baker's house, where she knew Opie was doing some yard work for him for a few extra bucks. She found him digging in the dirt, pulling up weeds in the back.

Coming to a stop next to him, she bent, hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. "We're going to war against the Mayans," she told him.

Sighing, he rubbed the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead and frowned. "This is going to be bad…"

She nodded.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure Mister Baker wasn't around or listening and then turned back to her. "You hear anything else?"

"Not everybody's happy about it. They're worried the blow-back might hit the families…" She shrugged. "Most of them don't think they have a choice though. Either we push back or we roll over and let them through."

He chewed his lip, casting his eyes around in thought. "Once they start, things are going to get rough around here."

Grimly, she said, "Bobby wants to attack this weekend."

"And?"

She grimaced. "There's a pretty good chance SAMCRO goes to war on Sunday."

They stared at each other a long moment.

Chloe didn't like to think about what it could mean, who it could take, if her dad or uncles would fill the casualty list, but it looked like now it would be all she was thinking of.

War broke out that Sunday. And it didn't stop for a long while.

* * *

_March 10, 1992_

Chloe was twelve years old when she was kissed for the first time. She was fairly sure it was a dare since, well, most people didn't ever try and kiss someone so heavily related to SAMCRO without their distinct permission first, and she definitely hadn't given that.

She was sitting on a bench at lunch, a book in her lap, her bag at her side, and no friends in sight. Truthfully, Chloe didn't have a whole lot of friends. At least, not many that were in school. Her brother was either always with Jax or hitting on whatever girl had drawn his eye that week. She didn't blame him. He was fourteen and hormonal and something about having his twelve-year-old sister around probably put a crimp in his plans. Besides, Chloe liked her solitude. Which was why she was more than a little surprised when a boy from a grade up, Matthew Something-or-Other, sauntered over from his group of friends, blocking her sun, and smirked at her.

She tensed at first. For nearly a year the Mayans and SAMCRO had been at war and she felt like she was always on edge. Sure, the boy in front of her was only thirteen, but he wasn't part of the club, and that meant she didn't trust him.

"Did you want something?" she wondered, her voice sharp, a brow raised.

He glanced once over his shoulder, where his friends busted out laughing again, and then turned back to her. "Yeah," he said, and then he leaned forward so quick she hardly had a chance to react.

His lips were wet; originally, the first word that came to mind was _slimy_.

The kiss lasted all of three seconds, because her brain kicked in and she reared her head back. "What the _hell!?_" she exclaimed, one of her hands balling up into a fist to let him know just how much she _didn't _appreciate the attention.

But Matthew didn't get a chance to explain, and she didn't get a chance to sock him, because Opie, who'd been flirting with a pretty cheerleader not far away, had seen the whole thing.

Opie had hit his growth spurt the summer before and towered over Matthew by at least half a foot. He'd taken after their father in the height department and, while only six feet at the time, she imagined he'd gain another five inches to reach the same as their dad. More than that, Opie was strong. He wasn't built like a linebacker, but he was still dangerous. In part because he and Jax had been hitting the gym more in, what they called, "preparation" for being inducted into the Sons. So it was no surprise when Opie grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt and yanked him in close, glaring down in his face, that Matthew lost all of his previous humor over the situation.

"Who the hell do you think you are, kissing my sister?"

"I—I—N-No! I—It—It wasn't like that! I—" Matthew stuttered.

"Really? 'Cause it looked like you walked right over here and planted one on her," Jax's lazy voice could be heard then.

Chloe tipped her head back to see him standing behind her, his hands braced on the back of the bench.

His lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyebrow raised. "You ask permission, Sutton? Or you just go around kissing whoever you want?"

Matthew, whose last name was apparently Sutton, turned to look at Jax and then Opie and finally, pleadingly, down at Chloe.

"Don't look at her, look at us," Jax ordered. "I asked you a question. Did you ask for permission before you kissed Chloe?"

"I- I—" He sagged, defeat filling his face. "No."

"See, then we got a problem here." Jax hopped over the back of the bench and took a seat next to Chloe, whose shoulders he wrapped an arm around. "We can't have you setting a precedent, Sutton… We let you get away with kissing Little Winston here and it gets other guys thinking it's open season…" He stared at him searchingly. "You see why we can't have that?"

He nodded jerkily. "But I won't! I- I won't kiss her again. I— It was a mistake. I didn't—"

"Now, don't insult her. That's not going to help you. I'm sure she was a great kisser. Weren't you, sweetheart?" He turned to grin at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Jax."

"Is that any way to talk to someone who just saved your ass?"

She snorted. "It was a three-second kiss that I'll gladly forget all about." Standing from the bench, she grabbed up her book and her bag, and then turned to her brother and Matthew. "Don't break any bones and make sure he doesn't rat. You don't need a suspension on your record," she told him, waiting for him to nod.

Opie took a second, considered it, and then agreed to her stipulations. With that, she left.

"_Fight, fight, fight!_" the cheer rang out behind her.

At the end of the school day, Matthew approached her, wearing two black eyes and a busted lip. He apologized for what he did and then ran off before she could say anything in return.

She wasn't surprised when Jax and Opie took it upon themselves to walk her home from school that day, or to find a way to be nearby for the next few weeks of lunch breaks. But the message had already gotten around and it was crystal clear. Unless they wanted to be confronted by Jax and Opie, nobody was giving Chloe a second look.

Unfortunately, she never did forget that kiss. Not because it was good or particularly memorable, but because that was the beginning of her adolescent life, the start of what would later become a pattern of relationships that never really got off the ground. Boys might like her, but they were far more afraid of her brother. So, she told herself it would be fine, she didn't even like anyone anyway. And, if she really wanted to date, she could wait until Opie finished high school and was no longer scaring off any potential suitors.

* * *

_May 15, 1992_

Chloe paused in the bar of the club, wincing. She'd been running on her way in, her footsteps loud, but thankfully they hadn't woken the man passed out before her. His hand was still curled around a bottle of whiskey, his head down, face buried in the crook of his arm. She tip-toed past him in the direction of the hall leading to the bedrooms; she and Opie had plans to go fishing.

This was the third day in a row she'd found JT like this; she wasn't even sure why she didn't expect it at this point. His drinking was getting worse, but he usually covered it better. If everybody else was drunk, then it didn't look so out of place that he was too. The men of SAMCRO were no strangers to drinking at odd hours or until they were well past drunk, but she knew what JT was doing was different somehow. She remembered the conversation they'd had about Tommy and she wondered if maybe he wasn't really coping at all.

"Hey."

Jumping, she whirled around, only relaxing when she found Opie grinning at her. "Shh!" she said, waving a hand and nodding her head toward JT.

He shrugged. "He won't wake up. Tig already walked through here singing and he didn't even flinch."

Chloe cringed. If there was one thing Tig was not, it was a good singer. He would wake the dead just so they could beg him to shut up. "Do you think he's all right?" she worried, peering at JT.

"He's alive." Opie handed her a fishing pole and started across the club. "He's just dealing, y'know?"

Chloe bit her lip and followed her brother out, casting one last look at her father's oldest friend before stepping out of the club.

They walked down the street, cutting across the elementary school field, and followed a dirt road down toward the lake. Opie whistled as they walked, comfortable with the lack of conversation. Chloe was eager to talk though. To her, JT represented a big portion of the club and the fact that something was wrong made her worried. Not just because he was a good man who she'd grown up with and looked for when she needed a guiding hand, but because if he fell apart, what did that mean for SAMCRO? When she voiced this to her brother, Opie frowned down at the ground, kicking a pebble.

"Whatever happens, SAMCRO won't fall apart," he told her. "It's a brotherhood and if we lose a brother, we honor him, we carry on for him."

"That's if he dies, Ope. Not if he just falls apart…" She looked over at him. "Do you think JT's going to die? 'Cause my teacher said drinking too much can kill a person."

He didn't answer right away, balancing his fishing pole behind his neck, his arms hung over it. "Dad said that losing a kid was one of the worst things that could happen. He said it wasn't something people just get over…" He looked at her. "Maybe JT won't be able to let go of Tommy."

"What about Jax?"

"Jax is tough; maybe JT doesn't think he needs his dad."

Chloe scowled. "Well, that's dumb! Jax loves his dad. He can't just leave him!"

Opie sighed. "I dunno… Dad just said that if he lost one of us, he'd be a _crazy_ mess."

"Yeah, but… I wouldn't want dad to _die_ just 'cause I did." She shook her head. "I wouldn't want anyone to die if I did."

"Well then don't die, dummy."

Rolling her eyes, she shoved him. "Shut up."

He half-grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders. "I don't know what's gonna happen with JT," he admitted. "But I hope he makes it… For Jax, at least."

"Yeah…"

Chloe took a deep breath and raised her chin. She smiled up at her brother and decided that this wasn't something they should dwell on. They couldn't see the future and maybe it would just take a while for JT to find his footing again. "Race you!" she said to Opie before taking off ahead of him.

"Cheater!" he laughed before bounding after her.

They spent the morning sitting on the dock, fishing poles in their hands, forgetting about everything and just enjoying themselves.

* * *

_October 30, 1993_

"What do you mean the Halloween party is cancelled? We have one every year!" Chloe complained.

"I know, baby, but it's just not safe right now," Gemma said, shaking her head. "Everybody in masks, we won't know who's who."

"This is stupid! Can't we just check faces at the doors?" She turned on her stool to follow the older woman as she moved around the club house from the bar to the pool table, collecting empty mugs, and back.

"And what, assume every Mexican is in with the Mayans?" she scoffed. "Don't let any of 'em in?"

"No…" She scowled. "That'd be racist."

"Well, how do you propose we figure out whether they're in with the Mayans or not?"

Her brows hiked. "They'll have tattoos, won't they?"

"So now you want me to strip search everyone who comes to the party?"

Chloe slumped in her seat.

Taking pity, Gemma leaned against the bar and patted her hair. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you love the parties…"

"I'm just sick and tired of this war," she sighed.

"We all are, trust me." Tucking Chloe's bangs away from her eyes, she said, "How about this? You and me dress up and we try that karaoke bar that just opened up? It'll probably be all god-awful country music, but it gets us out, right?"

A faint smile tugged at her lips. "That could be cool."

Gemma grinned, nodding. "Exactly. So we're good?"

"Yeah. Sorry I got so mad. I just…" She shook her head. "It's been two and a half years already…"

"I know, honey." She cupped Chloe's chin and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Sometimes important things take time to happen."

"Well, I'm impatient," she muttered.

Gemma laughed. "I've noticed."

Still, the following night, she and Gemma went down to the karaoke bar and had a good time. Chloe forgot all about the lack of Halloween party as she sang terrible, cheesy songs from the 80's and danced on stage with a laughing, tipsy Gemma. If anything, it was just nice to have a girl's night. That was more than worth the Halloween party.

[**Next**: Part Four.]

* * *

**Author's Note**:_ I'm excited we're finally getting up into Chloe's teen years. I hope you guys are still enjoying this and I'd love to hear who your favorite characters are and where you think this is headed. _

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate the support: **Celtergirl, Boingy, SarahJStar, Guest, Guest 2, Lioness32, NL92, GirloftheArts, TessFan, beautifulcurare**, and **Neverland Funhouse**._

_Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a review!_

- **Lee | Fina**


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